Ako’y tumutula, malapit sa isang daan na
Pero hindi para sa isang Stella
Na tinutukoy sa magandang pelikula
Bagkus ay para sa isang taong mahalaga -
Siya’y yaong tatlumpu’t limang taon na
Hanggang ngayo’y asawa ko’t kasama,
karugtong na ang binuo naming pamilya
At malimit ring iniuugnay sa bayang umaasa.

Our world’s much disturbed.
All that’s left hangs by a thread.
A view of sadness.

You left without a word - no goodbyes nor hints when you’d allow me again to savor that restful slumber with a thousand snores. When was that last time I slept so well? You just left. Nothing said. Nothing.

As hardly as you set off the ticking clock and made me wait for you to sniff the consciousness out of my head, while I count stars so bright or dolly sheep after sheep so white, so was the speed of your departure. I haven’t even had the luxury of precious minutes to ask whether the sheep I was counting had any wool and was there anything wrong with being black for a sheep, and I was too shy to ask the twinkling stars what they really are.

Like a quick scene in this melancholic one-act play in this old stage in the silent theater of memory recalls or the soft fragrance of white lacunosa wax plants on moonlit nights, I hear a loving mother tell her young son to pause his game and take the afternoon siesta on the mat spread on the cool bamboo floor relaxing amidst the dry days of the Lenten season. He just feigned asleep, eyes closed and then open again. I must be dreaming. How I wish I could tell him to relish sleep. For now I want sleep, even without dreaming. Even without dreams. But sleep seems so hard to get.

Sleep has become an elusive dream.

Ang EDSA ay kumakaway
Ang bayan ay nakaratay
Saklolo ay hinihintay
Marami nang napapatay

Ang EDSA ay tumatawag
Ang baya’y di makapalag
Pambabastos di masalag
Kahit mali’y pumapayag

Sinungaling, hindi tapat
Pati lahat n’yang kasabwat
Naniwala naman lahat
Instant solve daw droga’t kawat

Ngunit ngayo’y malinaw na
Na ginawa tayong tanga
Magnanakaw 'nilibing pa
na bayani, An'yare na?

Ang EDSA’y nagmamadali
Kaliluha’y naghahari
Tama’y ginagawang mali
Ang ganito’y di maari

Bayan noo’y nagkaisa
Diktadura'y itinumba
Karapatan ng balana
Hindi pwedeng ibasura

Diktadura’y hindi dapat
Mapabalik at magkalat
Kapag kapit-bisig lahat
Lakas ay walang katapat

Ang ‘EDSA One’ ay larawan
Nanindigang sambayanan
Aral ay hwag kalimutan
Kalayaa’y IPAGLABAN!

Ang Wheelchair, [Bow!]

Alalay sa may karamdaman
Sandigan ng may kapansanan
Kublihan ng mga tampalasan ng bayan
Gamit sa pang-uuto sa sambayanan . . .

Ang Wheelchair . . .

Translation:
The Wheelchair, [Bow!]

Assistant to the sick human
Support for the disabled man and woman
Convenient cover of the corrupt gang
Used for fooling the people all and one . . .

The Wheelchair . . .

I know this.
I knew this.
I’ve always known this -
that life
no matter how precious
could be snatched away
in the wink of an eye . . .
or even less . . .
even quicker.

Another tree
with so much promise,
cut in the careless gust
of a passing wind;
Another soul
who cared much
for this one and only Earth
had gone too soon.

I know this.
We know parting
but whenever parting comes
the sadness is never familiar.
We’re shocked
and need to be consoled:
This loving planet
never forgets its carers -
trees, butterflies, birds
and all it breathed to life
and all it nursed.

And when big trees go
the wildlings and saplings
the seeds you’ve sown will grow
in your steps, in your shadow
they’ll follow

the forest of our dreams lives
and that, as you rest in solemn space
you’d be happy to know
It would comfort us
who you’ve known , , ,
I know this . . .

I can’t always offer my other cheek
for you to have some sad surface to slap
I don’t have to.
                            Maybe because I’m not
your holy friend, and I don’t have to be
what people set -
                                someone or somebody
in this planet where paper roses bloom
inside plastic boxes.

I don’t think that I’ll throw away to you
a piece of bread, a slice of precious loaf
in return for that hard stone you did cast.
I don’t have to.
                             Maybe because I’m not
your haloed friend, and I don’t have to be
what people set -
                                standards, morals decreed.
Rigid squares, straight lines drawn.
                                                                Old World pretends
to be modern.
                          And . . . . . accommodating.

Oh no! It’s not. It’s not!
                                           The limits, too narrow,
define the soul,
                            poison minds,
                                                      choke the heart.

Life’s lessons
                         safeguard
                                            the survivor . . .

The journey’s still long
                                          along this
                                                             lonely road.

See clouds through branches  
No leaves block the clear blue sky
Once there loved a tree.

Pilit hinahabol ng gunting-pamugot
ang tanging dugsong na duguang pusod,
huminto’t tumigil, piniringang may-takot
ang pangalan ng saksi sa mga sagot -
pusod, di-makita, hila ng sanggol na supót,
nag-anyong kabayo, takbo nang takbo
ngunit di abutan, kawatang kangkarot,
akmang tatakas sa malupit na bangungot  
mabuti’t nag-iwan ng aklat, Gat Patnugot,
at tila ebanghelyong liwanag ang dulot -
kapag namulat ka’y mahahawi ang ulap at ulop
Kay sarap lumayang tila tsokolateng malambot.

Gagamba
     gumawa
          ng
               sapot:
     Huli
          mga
               lamok,
     Lusot
          mga
               bubuyog!

Lulubog ang araw upang magpahinga.
Anuman ang nangyari’y may aral na bunga
Bukas sa pagsikat babantayan ko s’ya
Magpapasalamat na kasama kita.

Tila nagtatanong, tanang mga muthâ
“Saan ba nagpunta ang payat na mamà?”
“Ilang buwan na bang hindi gumagalà
dito sa ‘ming parang na kanyang tumanà?”

Baguhin ang mundo’y dakilang pangarap
Subali’t mailap mga alapaap
Kung kaya’t bumangon kahit na mahirap
Dal’wampung ektarya’y pinagyamang ganap

Mahabang panahong masugid na nagmamahal
Sa katuwang sa puso at kasintahang walang pagal
Pati na sa gagamba at lahat halos na nilalang
Pati na butiking naghatid ng liham

Henyong ermitanyo ba o maestro pilosopo?
Iba ang pananaw, sa buhay, sa mundo
Lahat ay magkakaugnay at ang tao
ay tuldok lang at di panginoong sentro.

Pag-ibig sa bayan at kapaligiran
Ay di sagabal sa mithing kaunlaran
Basta’t angkop sa kaya ng pamayanan
Sadyang sustenable at di pangdayuhan

Bakas sa landas na kanyang nilakaran
Larawan ng diwang tunay, makabayan
Puso at isipang makakalikasan
Karapat-dapat na pagbalik-aralan

Sa Araw ni Ninoy, araw ng pagpanaw,
Sa Araw ng mga Bayani hihimlay
Bayani ng Lupa, may basbas ng araw,
ng ulan. Binuo ang ikot ng buhay.

(To Dr. Adelina A. Barrion,
September 9, 1954-July 10, 2010)

You expertly explained to me
sources of variation,
and the role of mutation,
much of the raw material
for the mighty driver - selection
and along the way
I also learned acceptance.
Everything, everyone
can be the same and unique
at the same time
And it’s perfectly alright
to be different.

You demonstrated
how encoded messages
for passing on traits
within populations
change in frequencies
and distributions,
how nature makes blind choices
how the fittest survives
and I learned deeper
my evolution.

Unconsciously, you made
aspiring for genuine honor
and excellence
more deeply rooted
in the loci of the heart
and the helices of the mind.

You taught me genetics
but you made me learn
Life is to be enjoyed,
much, much greater
than its four letters.

You proved -
great teachers never die,
they always live
in the lessons they give.

(In Memory of Miss Araceli M. Katigbak, TMA’s Miss Grammar)

You taught us
to talk and write head up high
in a tongue to foster,
that is not our mother
The scroll of rules
and the roster of exceptions
you’ve mastered
and you made us master,
patiently you nurtured
the timid buds
diligently you challenged us
daily, and your voice
still reverberates –
Correct practice makes perfect!
Beyond subject-predicate agreements
Your treasured grammar lessons
taught the young at heart,
the malleable minds:
Every man or every woman is
but
Men or women are,
regardless or irrespective
of beginnings,
required to know:
1. There are rules to be followed.
- and we expanded this to our lives,
and not just our paragraphs and sentences
2. There are exceptions to be considered.
- and you indirectly taught us,
to recognize differences
and that difficulties of the English language
are just like people’s frailties
and our friends’ idiosyncracies
3. Mastering grammar is good
but honesty is the best!

And thus, your lessons most precious
are far above your prim and proper dress and shoes
and your gospels of correct usage, syntax and other linguistic gems
delivered good citizenship and how-to-be-a-good-friend items.
The Good English we learned are words to live by
You’ve given us treasures no money can buy.

Mali ang ginawa mo
Diumano . . .
Nambihag ka ng mga inosenteng tao
Hinusgahan ka agad na isang sanggano

Sa likod ng lahat ng ito
Ang nanunulak sa mga tao
sa sulok na laging talo
Ang mga abusadong amo
Ang sistemang malupit at lilo
Ang pagturing sa manggagawa'y abo
Ang mga kawani'y putik - di p'wedeng magreklamo

Ang totoong nambibihag ay abswelto
Ang taong nagsakripisyo
at ang sanlaksang biktima ng mapang-abuso
- kalakaran sa paggawa'y kalaboso

Ay! Ay! hanggang kailan magiging ganito?

Small bites penetrate.
Large blisters declare the war.
Human invaders . . .

like a stripteaser dancing
the aromatic vapors rising
my heart fast beating
my arms shivering
you’re a storm surge rushing
through my throat drying
the bitter and the sweet teaming
like honey and sap mixing.

you’re flawless, as I stare
at your dark brown surface bare
warm, hot, that mug I’m feeling
as for that hug I am always longing
you seem to smile, sweet, always inviting
freshly brewed flavor captivating
creamed or black - notwithstanding -
to my throat a massage soothing.

Bouncing, rebounding
on the floor of my memory -
the ball of my elder sister’s jackstones
and the lead washer of my elder brother’s sipa
travelling to and fro
the tops and yoyos
among the imaginary bread doughs
of gathered dust
from that childhood
sprinkled with the *** of yesterday
to bake make-believe
rice puddings
and rice cakes
- they seem to be spoiled now
in the food cupboards of computers
and eventually interred
in the graveyards of cellular phones

In the cemetery of memories
the ghost of poverty still haunts
never, ever unescapable

for every gulp of you
warmly soothes
the throats of scenarios
of all dramas and movies
in that nesting home
now decrepit, debilitated:
          after the day’s toils:
          you helped me swallow the lump of aromatic rice
          - cooked by Mother - the old fragrant stock
          that she loaned from the vendor from Quezon
          not even a piece of dried fish accompanying
          nothing else, only you, my brewed coffee
          nice both as dip and soup.

Daan-daan, libu-libo
Daang-libo, daang-libo
Umaasang may milagro
Limandaang-libong piso

Kayamanang kinurakot
Ng pamilyang naging salot
Sa bayan kong binaluktot
Isasabog, baryang simot?

Marami ngang naniwala
Iba nama’y sakali, baka
Kapag pera ang nagwika
Sumusunod tanang dukha

Kapag baya’y maralita,
Karamiha’y mangmang pawa
Konting kiliti at banta
Utu-uto bumabaha

Dumaraming maralita
Kailangan ng kalinga
Karunungan ay biyaya
Ibahagi, ‘wag magsawa.

Kawawa ang sambayanan
Kung palaging iisahan
Ang 4Ps, pera ng bayan
Hindi ng angkang kawatan

Panloloko ay tigilan
Pandarambong ay tutulan
Diktadura ay labanan
Kabataan, mata’y buksan

Bagong bayani kaylangan
Karununga’y kalayaan.
Malalawak ang larangan
Sambayana’y paglingkuran

Sa
buhag
ng
pukyutan,
lahat
nagtutulungan;
Sa
Pilipinas,
karamiha­’y
nagsisiraan.

The tears that dropped just yesterday
have not yet dried up, lawn's still wet.
One glance, your candle's lit, struggling.
The next, you're gone, the winds have won.
Hijacked in the midst of this storm  
that silently kills, we're helpless
as flame after dear flame flickers
and covid sweeps all who we love
and yes, everything that matters.
Suddenly, life is but a dream.

Our
fingers,
35
years
fatter . . .
still,
wearing . . .
loving,
our
vows.

Paalam na muna, sinisintang toyò
Childhood sweetheart kita, karibal ng tuyô
Pero wala sa usapang mayro’ng dugo
ng obrerong sa alat mo’y ihahalo.

Di ko maatim na sa kanin kong puti
Iwiwisik kita, habang may lugami
sa mababang sahod, sa dusa’t pighati
Kapalit ng yaman ng sa ‘yo’y may-ari.

“Bukas na lang kita muling mamahalin”
Kung sakaling katarungan ay dumating
Kontraktwalisasyo’y tila almuranin
Kamandag sa buhay nitong bayan natin.

Translation:

We’re on a cool-off, Soy Sauce

Well, it’s goodbye for now, dear soy sauce brand, unspilled
You’re a childhood sweetheart, rival of dried fish grilled
But unjustly having lowly workers’ blood spilled
It’s not part of the deal, your salty taste concealed

It really is just hard to bear to sprinkle you
on my white rice, while those who toiled to see you through
suffer deeply in wages low, mis’ries undue
amidst the wealth, so huge, of those few who own you

Love you again, oh tomorrow, maybe, I will,
if fortune brings that sweet justice to hands that mill.
Contractualization’s a serpent waiting still
To our dear people’s life, a venom meant to ****.

Seabeds prop Old Rocks.
Plants are shawls of Ancient Walls.
Spell serenity.

Ang bayrus ng COVID ay tila makasalanan.
Katulad s’ya ng isang halimaw sa katahimikan,
o isang ministrong mataas ang katungkulan
na aliping tagasunod ng kanyang among si Kamatayan.
Kahit anino pa lamang n’ya’y dulot
ay lubos na takot, katulad ng pinakamadilim
sa mga gabi, o sulok ng guwang
o pinakailaliman ng karagatan.
Kumakatha sa isipan
ng mga kakila-kilabot na nilalang
at pinagagalaw sila ng sabay-sabay
nakaambang silain, lamunin
ang bawat kaluluwa, ang mga dibdib binabaklas
upang nakawin ang mga pusong malinis at wagas -
hinihigop ang lahat ng dugo, bawat patak
sinasaid ang bawat pintig ng natitirang lakas..

Malupit itong coronavirus,
isang haring espada ang batas, ang utos.
May kumakalat na ulop, ang madla’y binabalot;
walang kamalay-malay nilang nasisinghot,
orasyong buhay ka pa’y loob mabubulok.
Sa pintuan, naririnig ang katok:
isang panauhing di-kanais-nais ay gustong pumasok,
isa na namang payapang tahanan,
ang kanyang natuklasan.
Wari’y may samurai na iwinawasiwas
doon, dito, nananabas, walang habas
kapagdaka, lahat ng tila nasugatan, mga biktima
lupaypay, bagsak ay sa ospital, lugmok sa kalungkutan,
kinakapos ng hininga, unti-unting nalulunod mistula,
ng sa baga at lalamunan, ay naiipong sariling plema.

Ang pandemyang ito’y isang salaan
salamin ng lipunan,
isang digmaan, kung saan
mailap ang tagumpay at katapusan
at bawat laban, laging anong sakit, talunan.
Lahat ng uri at sinsin ng pangsala ay taglay:
pusong may kabaitan, sa walang puso’y inihihiwalay
maayos na pag-iisip, ibinubukod sa mga lutang at walwal
matatapat, angat sa mga kurakot sa mga larangan
prinsipe’t pulubi, pilosopong tunay
at mga tagasunod, makata’t mga mang-aawit.
Salaan
ng mga malubhang pagkakamali
ng nakaalpas na pagkakataon
ng mga leksyong dapat pang matutunan
ng mga landas na hindi nakita, at maling tinahak
ng daan tungo sa kaligtasan, anuman ang kanyang kahulugan,
anuman ang halagang kabayaran.

Ang pagkakaliit na bolang ito ay mamamatay na payaso
mapanghati, katulad ng isang salaming nanlalansi, nanloloko
pinag-aaway:
Hilaga laban sa Timog
Silangan laban sa Kanluran
pinakamahihirap sa mga mahihirap
itatapat sa angkan ng kamahalan
at ng mga bago’t biglang-yaman
at ang nasa gitna: Aba! Aba! Isang iglap ay sigaw
“Saan ang Hustisya?”
at hindi naambuhan ng ayuda
kayamanang munti sa panahon ng taghirap
na nang panahon ng sagana’y inismiran, sabay irap
sila umanong nagbubuwis,
bakit ngayon ay nagtitiis?
Parang sina Cain at Abel naghinagpis
Nahihiya ako. Nahihiyang labis.

Ito ang krisis. Takot ay inihahasik.
pinagsasama-sama sa iisang inayawang bayong
ang tila abuloy na pamatid-gutom
na nakamaskara bilang rilip na tulong,
lahat ng kinatatakutan -
pagkawalay,
                         pag-iisa,
kapanglawan,
                                          ­        diskriminasyon,
matinding kalungkutan,
                         pagkakasakit,
                         kamatayan . . .

Labis akong nag-aalala.
Labis akong natatakot.

When all trees cease breath
and all rivers smell of death
Money means worthless.

Tagbulaklak uli ngayon
Sa manggahang nililingon
Na sa nagdaang panahon
Saksi sa ating maghapon.

Mula Lunes laro’t aral
Hanggang B’yernes, walang tumal
Puti’t asul di nagtubal
Buhok hippie sadyang bawal.

Kabataan no’ng nangarap
Maabot ang alapaap
Ngayong layo’y lubos-ganap
‘Igan pa ring nakaharap.

Kaibiga’y nasusukat
Di sa yaman ni sa agwat
Tunay yaong di napuknat
Mula musmos ay matapat.

Si Mabini nagwika rin
Katapatan ang habilin
Kapatid ang sadyang turing
Noon, ngayon at bukas din.

Jose Rizal ating paksa
Naturalista nga kaya?
Sagot nati’y “Tunay! Sadya!”
Dangal ng Lahing Dakila

Mga aral na pamana
Ng bayaning ating bida
Kalikasa’t Baya’y t’wina
Mahalin at Laging Una

Ang buhay ay paglalakbay
At nang minsang nakasabay
Kaagad kang umalalay -
Kapwa tulong ating pakay.

Kulisap ng karunungan,
Naging susi ng samahan,
Naging tulay na ugnayan -
Agham na para sa bayan.

Sa iyo aming kaibigan,
Salamat ay walang hanggan.
Ngalan mo’y kaligayahan
Hindi makakalimutan.

Walong b’wan na, saan na ba?
Susulong daw, atras pala!
Ay may patutunguhan ba?
Agay! Porbida Covida!

Kupas na ang ‘yong larawan
Ala-ala kong sulyapan
Ang kahapong s’yang tahanan
Anino na lang nang bal’kan.

Hindi yaman ang sukatan
Ng matapat na kaybigan
Kundi subók nang samahan
Tapat at walang iwanan

Gipukaw ko
sa akong damgo
Morag langgam nga ilo
sa salag nga gigubâ sa bagyo.
Ning-syagit ko
ug ngalan nimo

Ning-abut na ka abi nakò
Dinhi sa tapad ko
Akong gitan-aw,
wa may tawo
Ang habol pilô gihapon,
bugnaw maski gaksun nakò

Uli na langga,
mingaw na kaayo.

PANAGINIP (Tagalog translation)

Nagulantang ako
ng aking panaginip
Parang isang ibong ulila
sa pugad na sinira ng bagyo
Isinigaw ko
ang pangalan mo

Dumating ka na akala ko
Dito sa tabi ko
Tiningnan ko,
wala namang tao
Ang kumot tiklop pa rin,
malamig kahit yakapin ko

Uwi ka na mahal,
Sobrang lungkot na dito.

DREAM (English translation)

In a flash, awakened
by a dream, saddened
like a bird orphaned
in a nest the storm had downed
Your name
I called out loud

you have returned, I thought
here by my side, I sought
to feel and I looked, at once
but there was naught
the blanket still neatly folded
and, even as I hugged it, cold as dead  

Come home now my dear
It’s become so lonely here.

Tonight's our longest
And patiently we're waiting.
Tomorrow's Sun peeps.

Somebody in the neighborhood
cut the red comb of Rooster Good,
and the overgrown wattle too;
whoever did, nobody knew.
What’s sure is that the spritely stance
is now lost in his courtship dance.
His dawn tenor arias so proud
now low pitched and hoarse but still loud.

Perhaps those hands that held the knife
Hated that ***** enjoy free life
or had eyes burned on seeing red
or pinkish plume on bloodied head
A rooster’s form must do conform
with all rules of cockfighting norm.
Humans dictate how chooks should look
I should have asked their Holy Book.

And so dear Old Rooster’s de-crowned
Has lighter head, a king dethroned
beard-like wattle, like rouge wisdom
swish swings no more like pendulum
The pride is gone like in folks’ tales
as more mates follow full-combed males
Now fewer hens his harem hosts
mean fewer eggs for breakfast toasts.

Alpas sa gabing lumukob
Dulo’t dulo’y itim pulos
Salamat anuman yung d’yos
Kalul’wa kong di pasakop

Sa pagkakataong malma
Di sumuko ni lumuha
Binugbog man ng tadhana
Ulong dug’ua’y tunghay-laya

Lampas ditong hagpis-luha
Tanging lilim lang ang banta
Datnan man dantaong sumpa
N’ia ‘nong takot, ako’y wala

Makipot man ang lagusan
Bale-wala’ng parusahan
Ang palad ko’y aking tangan
Ako’y ako ang Kapitan.

Slowly,
             slowly,
                         slowly, like one
lonely white cloud in the wide blue
sky we thought was heaven watching
over humans - We never asked
as young children how a good god
could not be bored doing guard jobs,
day in, day out, and night shifts too.

The Inquisition comes out late
and ties us down like captured pigs
with aching backs, sore joints and chest -
maimed cries of those rusty machines
which we now call aging bodies –
but holy texts willed and thus said
Behold! - ‘the Temple of the Lord.’

It came to pass - imagine how
sacerdotal frustration great
that the high priest so self-righteous
in his deep-stained mental frock white
arrives here at scene of the crime -
The Sacred Temple covered in slime.

Hitherto, video clips appear
at the bottom of my sad cup,
and every time I finish one
shot after shot, of laughing friends
as once we were a team working
together when – Oh! When was when?

But wines may warm the frozen cold
that in the few moments we shared
mem’ries abound, like old pictures
in an album, we call, once, life.
Feelings muted.
                            Musings silenced.

Slowly,
             slowly,
                         away,
                                   away
Above the waves a bottle floats
the sealed message remains unread
The mind’s non-stop.
                                     The heart is deaf.
The soul is lost.
                            A story starts.
A piece of wood that stays adrift . . .
Slowly,
             slowly,
                         away,
                                   away . . .
Slowly,
             farther away,
                                   each day . . .

Everyday
with
you,
Magi
visit.
Love's
gold.
Hope's
frankincense,
­myrrh.

Ages
ago,
we
heard
our
hearts’
symphony.
It’s
still
playing.

Like twinkling drops of hallowed lambanog
that you later called miraculous coco *****,
they remained in the night sky of your shot glass
after you tried to drown the sorrowful mysteries
in countless gulps of your comforting best friend,
anaesthetizing every pain in your fatigued heart.
There your imagined liquor-incarnate compadre
of one comforter spirit friend and brother beside
sitting, hugging your shoulders, in whispers telling
you, you’re not alone, just cry if you need to, crying
as no Jesus or Mary could save your unfortunate soul
sentenced and punished without trial, by sheer strike
of Luck or lack of it. Keeping the faith despite the fate.

Not even a single teasing demon to offer you to pawn
your one forsaken spirit. Gods are deaf. Salve Regina!
yelling to high heavens, growling to the deepest hells
"Eli, Eli, Lama, Sabachthani?” - viral pneumonia spells
the names of maimed friends and silenced co-workers
“in no particular order!” as if finalists in that pageantry,
we call pandemic - worldwide but never world class
- and only the coronavirus wears the crown and reigns.

The roll call of the departed has become as endless
as the river of tears and sent messages of sympathies
and ocean deep condolences and sincerest wishes of
peaceful rests, soul or no soul, expressed. Covid or not,
all the dead are suspected zombies and swabbed; a stick
up one’s nose has taken new meanings. And thinking
positive is suddenly not on, not in, but off – it’s feared.

Life is like the alcohol with which we wash our hands.
It easily evaporates, leaving our skin feeling cold. Like
when Sepsis claimed a dear sister on New Year’s Day –
Anxiety is a real, a dangerous reality. Then colleagues,
mentors, friends, relatives, acquaintances, mother of one
pal, a health worker, front liners, a driver, a poor child,
a teacher, a student, a jobless man, a millionaire, an idol
An aunt passes away, on one unhappy day. Grim Reaper
blindly, swiftly, sweeps the shining sickle, the scythe . . .
and the life that began at daybreak is gone, gone, so quick.
All grains harvested in just a day.
Life. Just one short day.
One day.

Red
roses
last
Valentine’s,
now
wilted.
Love's
a
tree -
Evergreen.

Go, leave it behind.
Cast away painful mem’ries.
Hope springs eternal.

They came first for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I am not a Communist

Then they came for the immigrants
And I did not speak out
Because I am not an immigrant

Then they came for the feminists, and gays, and lesbians
And I did not speak out, never shouting out that Love is love
Because I was not a woman, neither a gay, lesbian, nor a feminist

Then they killed the blacks
And I did not speak out
Because I am colored, but not black.

Then they persecuted scientists just like in Bolshevik Russia, Chinese Cultural Revolution, and ignored, defunded them just like in present-day strongman regimes
And I did not speak out, never shouting out that Science is real
Because I live in a democratic state, with advanced science and technology.

Then they killed botanists like Leonard Co and companions
While doing fieldwork in the Philippines
And I did not speak
Because I am not a botanist, and I don’t go on fieldwork in those places.

Then they killed Lumads, and burned Lumad schools
And I did not speak,
Because I am not a Lumad, and I went to a prestigious university.

Then one day, they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me.

Cicadas sing love
Chants of Gregorian tenors.  
Nature’s selections.

Respect
my
freedom.
These
ten
words.
This
is
my
poem.

Frontliner ang kaybigan ko
Naglilingkod walang preno
Kontra bayrus ang g’yerang ‘to
S’ya’y bayani at idol ko.

Your elegance popped
right in the midst of nowhere
Awe's frozen me here.

In the darkest of nights even Moon
- it’s face reduced to the narrowest
crescent - hides behind thick
clouds of reluctant silence, a miser
failing to part with one droplet
of encouraging smile. Lonely
apathy rules supreme, solitary,
in the nocturnal palace
of insensitivity, indifference,
heartlessness. Silent night. Unholy night.
Sleepless night. Seeing Ursa Major –
I imagine that Big Bear waving.
And I remain one Little Bear. There
above Polaris I see her Holy Ghost –
the nurturing glance pulsates
to this hour. Six decades of life
humming her lullabies have kept
that young boy captive by caring
offers of coffee sips expertly brewed
in the calming warmth of tight hugs.

The love and compassion that you
planted still grows, still blooms.

And yes, a mother is eternally missed.

On her lap still warm
Hugging dear life and her man
Judged by social gun.