Willow herb floating

on silent certainty

ashes of sighs


not fleeting,

unvapoured on the

blossom of the rain,

I am too light to

pull or push

the swing of delight

through this land.




The rain left me for a

while

sun unshielding

-a thousand widows

more unyielding than the depths . .

Once shadowed whisperers

of delight,gossamer

sparkling , descending

their chains

of necromantic hope.





Lilith is no night owl

she is mother, eve

and my becoming:

sweet earth spun

at once ,

exhaling her .





The see saw

bumped gently

on my chin

it is a most gentle

form of awakening.




The silence bore no whispers

till sinking through the quicksand

-or was it quicksilver?

-in any case I could smell little

in my amniotic amnesia.

I made ten thousand friends,till their soap

made this place clean.



Is this a seed or a dying

hopefulness

-is my sallow sowing

beyond all shores of

reproduction;

a reflection of the child

they dared not bear?



Is my last breath like this

a forgotton yielding

will they catch me

as I fall ?

-(sweet earth)-



This moth of my ending,

a shallow recantation,

my fears-

their memories, mere

testubes of

stylish hope .





I breathe the elegant stare

you have forgotten .

Once more free

from such

rememberance






I need not ,

remained not ,

your imploded ,

wakefulness .





A thousand pardons

exhaled like silk

entwining

an unfinished race

spider of a thousand eyes .



One may say

I was

stared

to death

but surrogate air

mocks childish pity.



Taut refelexions

bear salt echoes

in silk convulsions

fresh water

a veneered hope .



Easier in death than life

is a child's sorrowed

partings ,

the illusion of

bouyancy

rippled tides

unfelt.



The oceans have not enough salt

for such shrunken sorrow.

if we could but once

have shared

unbreathed aspersion .



The room has come and gone

the pillow quite undry

unforgotten

unremembered.

A web untouched

Dearest Maria Ligaya,

I do not know where to start. Maybe because we started close but ended separately like a stranger. I am not one to judge. They do. I am not biased either. I chose to walk away because I do not want a fight, a quarrel between us, to begin with.

When I sensed quarrel is gonna happen, I blocked you. Not because I hate you, but because I wanna avoid hurting you. But I realized, the more I tried protecting you, you were never doing the same for me too. It was like we chose to ride in a boat together, but chose to row it in different directions. We cannot adjust the wind, but we can adjust the sail— which never happened. Because you were too focused on the wind itself and not on its sail.

I chose not to test the waters at first, but clearly, I saw an alligator swimming. Later on, I learned to test the waters, survive through the tides, rising and falling. The calming comes and then storm happens. Just like how the waves rushes to meet the shore, we never met halfway. I was grateful for it. For the bouyancy. For the warning. That even when I almost drown, I stayed afloat.

Maybe you felt like a hero, just because you have a lot of things to say and you did. The unfiltered, raw words you told me directly or towards my family. I will never forgive you for that. But I chose to. Not because I was weak, not because I want to accept defeat. But because I wanted to come clean and act mature.

I did want to say things to you. I chose to protect your feelings. I do not wanna hurt you because I know myself— I can be tacky at times, I may not think first and speak afterwards. But for a fact that even if we are at war, I still chose to not tell it directly.

You did hurt my feelings. My family's feelings. You never even think twice to assess the issue and gather information or data. You easily judged us without proofs, with biased judgments, you chose to believe your son more than us. Of course, he is your son. Your flesh and blood. And who are we? Just your servants, right? No. We are your family, but you treated us like dogs. Spoiled us with your padala, your reject clothes, buy 1 take 1 products. In return, you could easily fool us.

With your ambition to go abroad, who helped you? — my mother. Who sent you there?— my father. You have the utang na loob? None. Nada. You do not need to repay us, okay? That was not out of obligation, not out of responsibility. But because we love you, we sent you to the airport.

Let me take you back to memory lane: she was my aunt. My cousin, her son. My recent enemy, her gold digger girlfriend, pa-papel sa tita kong naka-asawa ng cano, nagfi-feeling mayaman na. When her girlfriend came into the picture, we got chaotic. My cousin and I knitted like siblings since birth separated now because of her.

When her girlfriend arrived, I sensed a bad vibe aura. I interrogated her, she told my cousin. And my cousin told the nanny, that I am like the acting owner of the house, interrogating her. I was not interrogating her, I was getting to know her. If she finds it rude of me to ask her, then why did she show herself in my uncle's house. Yes, technically, the house was under my uncle's name (the eldest brother of my aunt and mom) but my aunt was the one paying for it. All through out my mom's life, she was the one left here in our city, my aunt went abroad, my uncle was in the rural area working as a teacher. I do not wanna complain, but my mom took care of my grandfather, when he died, my mom took care of it all.

Where were they? My relatives asked. Busy, I answered. When my grandma got sick, the fiasco dig in. The chaos caved in. There was no absolute, infinite and clear communication that happened. Before, I was proud enough to say that my family never fought for the land, but now, we do.

When grandma got bedridden, mom took care of things from left to right. At first, I was the one taking care of her, my mom and my back got painful from carrying my heavy grandma. My mom's back got worse. It still hurts and pains up to this day. While you there, sitting pretty in your mortgaged apartment in North Carolina. Edi SANA ALL. For not suffering. Not for being a pessimistic *****.

What is your point here Maria Ligaya? To belittle us? At least, my family is not like yours. My mom married a man so kind and loving, not like yours, a narcissistic ******* (as authored by the psychologist). That later on, your son became one too.

I may forgive you for a lot of things. But I will never forgive you for hurting my mom. Do you not have some conscience? She took care of everything for you. When that happens, just know your son will take care of everything for you.

We chose to walk away. To move to a new place without your ghost following us. We felt like a shadow every time we follow you. You even ruined my relationship with my cousin because of your pagka-engrata. Be grateful, I do not do revenge. Karma will do its vengeance for me. God will do it for me. He saw me when I was low. He saw me when I was helpless.  I hope God will forgive you for you did to us. Inhumane indeed.

That is all.

—Me.