Is Love a Cliche?

This is a so-nice poem I've read yesternight (while Ellice was memorizing it). I so love it that I memorized it then and there.

Sonnet XVII
Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose,topaz
or arrows of carnations that propagate life;
(A man loves a woman not because she gives him life but rather because she is his life herself. He loves her not because she is a gem but rather because she's so ordinary, she deserves to be loved.)

I love you as certain dark things are loved
Secretly between the shadow and the soul;
(He loves her for she shows him the dark in order to see the light--a mystery only the inner self can understand.)

I love you as a plant that doesn't bloom
and carries within itself the light of those flowers
(Why love the blooming flowers when they wither before the sunlight? For he who loves a bud, loves the life inside it. A man who loves a woman not because of how she dresses herself but how she lives herself is a true lover.)

And thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives dense fragrance
that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing why, or when, or from where
I love you simply without problems or pride:
(Is this what love is? Being so ignorant? Being unreasonable? May be. or may be not?)

I love you in this way
because I don't know any other way of loving but this:
in which there is no I nor you.
So intimate, that your hand upon my chest is my hand.
So intimate that when I fall asleep,
it is your eyes that close.
(When love imprisons two person in a cell, they become one. Only them can feel a string of connection, a confusing understanding.)

True?

Ang kawalan ng maisip...

Ang sarap balik-balikan ang mga alaala ng high school. Mga ginawang proyekto… mga kalokohan… mga outings… mga kabalbalan… mga pinagtripang guro… mga naparusahang kamalian… Madami, sobrang dami. At lahat ng ito’y masayang naumpisahan at ipinagpapatuloy dahil sa mga kaklaseng tinuring na kaibigan… at kaaway.

What am I going to write now? Is it about my high school memories? I don’t think I can inscribe those memories now. Little time won’t be enough for a mountain of pages. High school was great and so are its reminiscences. I’ll be writing that some time, though.

Just a touch of that part of my life, this poem I made was a requirement. Yeah, I had no choice but to squeeze my poor brain. *laugh*

Oo, Ako nga 'to

Ngayo'y hindi na lungkot kundi tuwa

ang namamasdan sa kanilang mga mata

Sapagkat isang anghel ang sa kanila'y ibinigay

ng Amang Diyos na mapagpalang tunay.

Oktubre noon, ika-dalawampu't dalawang araw

ang katahimikan ay unti-unting pumapanaw;

Iyak ng babaeng sanggol ang narinig,

Sanggol na bunga ng umusbong na pag-ibig.

Sa gabi, siya'y hinehele ng kanyang ama,

O 'di kaya'y kinukuwentuhan ng kanyang ina.

Sila ay maglalaro kinabukasan,

O 'di naman kaya ay aklat ang binubuksan.

Dumating ang araw ng kanyang pagpasok,

Sa Sentral ng Pidigan, talento niya'y hinubog.

At 'di naglaon, nagtapos siya ng elementarya

na bitbit ang unang medalya.

Sekondarya, Abra High School ang kanyang pinasukan

sa pag-asang dito niya matatagpuan

ang mas mataas na antas ng pagtuturo

at mga gurong tunay na matatalino.

Kulang sa sampung buwan mula ngayon,

Aakyat sa entablado, makukuha na ang diploma

sa wakas, magtatapos na!

Oopps! Sampung b'wan? Matagal pa 'yon.

Pero salamat na rin sa paaralan

(ang aga pa para magpasalamat no)

sa paghubog sa aking isipan;

Sa pagkabuo ng pangarap,

Ito ang gabay sa paghahanap.

Hay... Ang bilis ng panahon,

(parang rocket sa space!)

Kailan lang nang siya'y hubad

at tumatakbo palabas kahit umaambon.

Ngayon? Aba! Sa ina siya pa'y mas matangkad.

(Nag-Growee siguro 'to.)

Batang inaaruga ng mapagmahal na magulang,

Mag-aaral na sa guro'y maraming natutunan,

Nagkaroon ng mga kaibigan

na karamay sa iyakan, katuwaan o ano pa man,

Taong hindi sumusuko sa laban,

Kahit takot, sige pa rin, nagtatapang-tapangan.

Ha? Opo, ako po iyan.

Bago ko tuldukan ang pagkahaba-habang tulang 'to,

(mahaba na para sa'kin, 'wag nang kumontra)

May mensahe ako para sa inyo

(sa mga nagbabasa man o hindi,

sa mga nandito man o wala):

Salamat! Salamat! Salamat! Salamat sa lahat

You bring out the best in me

(Ngek! 'Di na nagtugma-tugma. 'Sensya na.)

At dito na nga nagtatapos ang aking tula.

Akala niyo may kasunod pa? Wala na!

Teka! Pahalik... MMMWWWAAAHHH!

_iann

13Jun06

Nakakatawa noh? Parang tanga lang gumawa. Hindi ako marunong sa tula e. Parang nilaro lang ‘yan pero hindi. My! Kawawa rin utak ko noon. Pinag-isipan ko naman ‘yan kahit papa’no.

Hidi ko talaga alam kung ano ilalagay ko rito. Wala pa kasing “intense” emotion kaya ‘di ako makapagsulat. *wide grin*

Wala pa masyadong bumibisita kasi rito. ‘Pag meron na, saka na lang ako gagawa ng bonggang bongga. *winks*

Sariling Pakikipagtalastasan

Heto ako nakaharap sa salamin. Nakikipagtitigan sa sarili kong repleksyon. Nagsasalita, akala mo may kausap. Iniisip ko nga na sa harapan ko ay kumpol ng tao. Sila ang gusto kong kausapin. Nakatindig ako sa harapan nila. Lahat sila nakatitig sa'kin. Hinihintay na marinig ang bawat salitang aking bibitawan. May tiwala sila sa akin na ang bawat ideyang hinuhugis ng aking mga labi ay para sa kanilang kapakanan at sa buong salinlahi. Sana ganito ang kapangyarihan na taglay ng aking pakikipagtalastasan sa kapwa ko tao. Ngunit naisip ko na kailangan ko pala munang kumbinsihin ang sarili ko na maniwala sa mga ideolohiyang aking ipaparating sa taumbayan.

Kanina, pag-uwi ko, napagmasdan ko ang kalyeng aking tinatahak. Inilikbay ang mga mata sa paligid. Ang daming sasakyan. Nakakabingi ang kanilang mga ungol. Nasasaktan din ang ilong ko dahil sa matatalim nilang usok. Nakakabulag ang kaitiman. Animo'y mga bumabang ulap na nagdadala ng matinding bagyo.

Puros bato na nahugis sa isang bahay na mahirap sabihing isang tahanan. Paano ba naman kasi, halos wala namang tumitira. Grabe! Nag-uunahan ang bawat bahay na abutin ang kalangitan. Napakataas na ambisyon. Kalangitan? Hindi ko alam kung langit pa bang matatawag ang dating karagatan sa taas na unti-unting nagiging hukay. Hukay ng mga mababangis na diyablo.

Mahaba ang paglalakad ko. Pero ayos lang dahil sa isang halamang tinuring kong pag-asa. Araw-araw kong pinapanalangin na sana umusbong ang maliliit at mapuputi nitong bulaklak. Subalit, pagdaan ko kanina wala pa rin. Wala ni kahit talulot. Doon ko napagtanto na ang mga talulot nito ay natatakot ng lumabas...kinulong ng mga mababangis na usok at sa kawalan nito ng karamay. 'Yun bang kapwa niya halaman. Siya na lang kasi natitira. Baka nga bukas, wala na rin siya.

Malapit nang mamatay ang dating mundo. Iyong mundo kung saan nakikipaghalakhakan ang tao sa bawat alon ng dagat; nakikiawit sa mga ibon; nakikisayaw sa hangin; nakikilangoy sa mga isda; nakikisabay sa mga talon ng mga tipaklong sa bukiran; nakikipaglaro sa mga paruparong masayang nakikipagligawan sa mga rosas, sa mga hasmin, sa mga sampagita. Doon sa mundong ang matayog ay hindi gusali kundi mga punong ang iniaalay sa langit ay hindi kadiliman kundi kasariwaan: lunti, hindi itim. Doon sa mundong ang tinatangay ng agos ay hindi basura kundi ang mga lotus na namumulaklak, pinupuno ang sapa't ilog ng kaputihan, inaakay ang bawat nilalang sa kalmang paglubog ng araw at sa pagbati nila sa bagong buwan at mga bituin.

Nakakalungkot isipin na pagdating ng araw at ako'y magkakaroon ng anak, marahil kuwento na lamang ang lahat ng ito. Ginagawan na lamang niya ng mga larawan ang bawat kuwento ko gamit ang kanyang imahinasyon. Paano kung gusto niyang makita ang totoo? Sasabihin ko bang kathang-isip na lamang ang lahat? Sasabihin ko bang ipinagkait sa kanya ng kapwa niya nilalang ang kagandahan ng mundo? Masakit isipin na ang panahon ko ang nagnakaw sa masaya sana niyang pakikihalubilo sa kapaligiran. Masakit isipin na ang panahon ko ay walang ginawa, hinayaang mamatay ang tunay na mundo. Masakit isipin na tayo ang magkakasala sa susunod na salinlahi.

Sana bukas, muling isaboy ng bulaklak na 'yon ang malapit na rin ilibing na pag-asa.

iann_05Oct08

My Two Romeo...

There's this one guy who still can sweep me off my feet. Years had passed but as if the days I spent with him hadn't. They have remained dreams now, though. Dreams... Those pictures of memories that haunt me every night and steal few times of my day. I wish them to happen again. But then, "nothing happens twice" they say. Could they be so right? Oh well, only time can tell.

He pushed me away. He still does. That makes me long for him more. He's cold. I have no idea why. We were friends. He even told me once that we "surpassed friendship". That can only mean one thing: romantic love. It's still a big puzzle to me why things had changed and turned out to be like this. How can I ask him if he doesn't even care at all!

I have no boyfriend. Only one reason: I couldn't find a guy like him or almost like him.

Though, I like someone. He may not be so much like him but I find him smart. I haven't met him yet but I know it'll be soon enough for me to get over the first guy.

Here's a poem for the guy I'm missing:

Agony of Longing

An air of an afternoon breeze
brushes off through my face,
cooling it like a heat
soaked in the freezing mist
of a sunset.

A sunset that regresses me
to the only memory
I have long wanted
to be dead.

That sunset I watched
amazingly at the park
became no less than dull.

So I walk my way home,
hoping the picture of you
would just be burned down
like the sunflowers that'd gone
with the sun.

I arrive, seeing my guitar,
waitin' to be quivered;
Then a tune dances
as my fingers give life
to each string.

My eyelids restrain my eyes
to the vacuum of darkness,
as I let my melody carries me
to the sway of freedom.

Unwittingly, I'm playin' the piece
of notes you had sung to me:
It reechos the sound of the past,
and I weep.

I weep like a child,
lost...
forgotten...
in the middle of nowhere.

And the more I think of you...

I stare at the hollow ceiling
where my thoughts draw nothin'
but your face.

Oh, your face!--
a replica of Great Achilles:
so handsomely beautiful.
I reach my hands to it:
as if I cloud touch its softness;
as if I could kiss it.

Your eyes were like the vast
vessels of the ocean:
can not be fathomed,
yet to think not the earth
that lies on its bottom
makes every crystal of water
a reflection of love itself.

Your gaze that would show me
what my fantasies prevent me to see--
to see life in its clarity;
to look at reason, grasp reality.

The reality that love
is unbounded, unconfined:
no options to choose from,
no ideal, just the right man.

The reality that life
must be sovereigned
not by wishes and whims
but by reason--
the only choice
to seize reality itself
and not to be forsaken
by the abyss
we refuse to see.

Your rose-tinted lips
that you passionately pressed to mine
still linger on me,
though the wings of farewell
had flown them away.

When will I be able to kiss again
the petals of your love?
If it will take forever
to clasp the thorns of waiting,
I'll bathe from my own blood.

Your tongue, the most luscious
my teeth had never hindered
to enter my mouth,
has been the snake
that spat off a venomous saliva
I've been wanting to lick
the life out of me.

Your hand that caressingly ran
through the contours of my body,
is now the very monster
that grips my heart so hard.
Oh, my heart! You make it numb.

Your chest where my head used to lie
and my ear used to listen
to the beating of its prisoner,
is now nothing but a rigid stone
that hits my head
and deafens my ear.

I think of you
as if you're still in my arms.
And I can't escape
the anguish of missing you.
Your absence is like a sharp metal
being drawn to my heart.

I collapse on my bed
for my feet can not hold me any longer.

I howl, thinking the pain
would just leave with every breath.
It failed.
And I howl again
for my raptured love.

It's already dawn.

The light,
illuminated by the rising sun,
creeps inside the walls where I lie.
But I just take a glance
like its existence is mere illusion.

I think of you again.

Have you forgotten me?

The light has grown blinding,
My eyes are forced to close.

After some moment,
I open them again...

.....................

Your face is gone.

_iann
23Jun2008

And for the guy that might bring my feet back on the ground, don't pull the hope away from me. Don't you dare for good's sake!

When You Knocked the Door

How wide is this room where I am imprisoned!
How it makes me so alone and abandoned!
What truth has it slapped me that I could not feel?
When will it show me the clarity of what is real?
It is so dark in here.
I am in so much fear!

Then a hand breaks the door's silence,
when I am about to swirl down the pit.
He sits and gives me a warming embrace,
and this room rises to life a bit.

He is, however, a mere cloud of a man.

Yet I cry not, I die not,
for I can still hear his distant voice;
for I see his gaze full of hope;
for I feel his breath that blows me up.
I might die if emptiness will creep,
but his only presence is the rope
that ties my thought
to a moment of bliss.

_iann
24Aug08

*sigh*. Is this what love can do to people? It's such a maze!

(14Oct08)

The Dance I Wished to have Lasted...

I was looking at you from your side. You saw me. So I turned my gaze to the other side. Then you shocked me when you headed to where I seat. You offered me a hand and asked for a dance. I never expected you to do that. In fact, I didn't want to have expectations for I l knew they'd crash all the same. I didn't take any second thought, I said yes like a flash...like a shooting star on which I sung a wish... A wish you made to come true. You led me on the floor of my living dream. As if everything has vanished and only us were left. Like the princess in the hands of his prince, I felt so helpless yet enchanted in your arms, in your presence. You looked through my eyes and and I looked through yours as if we were sharing the same world...as if we were going back to our past. Our past that sealed the memory of one love. You asked me how my life is going though you were seeing me eight hours a day, five times a week. I answered with a smile: "It's fine so far. How about yours?". You said you're happy. Again, there was silence. You held me, close to an embrace. I closed my eyes, just feeling your breath on my nape. It was calm. Almost in tears, I asked how are you and her. You denied anything between you two but I knew she and you were leading to that fantastic world. "This would be our last dance, wouldn't it?" I required assurance. You didn't know what to say. I understood. We were both ignorant of what will happen. After a while, you thanked me. I thanked you back. You said I'm the girl you won't ever forget for being there when you need me; for I touched your life more than I imagined I could; for you met me. I didn't give you reasons for my thanking you. I was afraid to tell you how many lessons you've taught me, how many pieces of puzzles you've given me. I was afraid to tell you how I've found half of what I am. I was afraid to tell you that I've been loving you. Fear made me mum. All I was able to say is,"Lead me back." Everything appeared. I saw people dancing. I saw her. I saw you take her to the dance. I saw her smiling. I saw her happy. And I saw myself weeping inside...hurting...wishing I were her. I held my head to the heavens and thought: maybe, just maybe, someday I'll be the only one you are dancing with...for the rest of the nights. iann_/08Oct08

Time Machine

I remember it. I remember it too well. That single day. I was yours. You were mine. A possession we didn't know we really possess. Our only idea was that we both painted our sky with colors only us understood their hues.

Suddenly, every book... every table... every chair... everyone... everything in this room is dragged away to nowhere and I am brought to that familiar road where you once drove me. I was sitting facing you. You were on the breaks. You said you'll go fast I have to hold on. I grabbed your shirt but it wasn't enough. So you let me hug you and I hugged you very tight. I rested my head on your back and sang the calm rhythm of your breath. I closed my eyes and felt the sweet air as we swifted the road of our journey. I never felt so safe in the guards of a man.

You began to speak of the verdure along the road... the soothing fragrance of the flowers... the relaxing aura of the trees... the musical choir of the birds... I held my head up and I saw them all. I saw the happiness of watching the beauty of the world while being next to you. I saw the life I'm going to cherish...this one moment of love with you.

You slowed down.

I wasn't aware I was already throwing my hands up the heavens and shouting your name. You said I'm crazy but then you too were shouting my name. The notes of your voice played in all my ears. And I knew you heard my song for you were singing. All of a sudden you were smiling. Only then did I realize that I was looking at you while you were looking at me on the left rear mirror. We both laughed.

That motor bike was our cradle. A cradle that sent us to an ineffable bliss.

I feel tears trimming sown my face. For now I have to go back to where I should be. Yes, at last I know this is our past that has been locked in the depth of the earth...long time ago.

I Am a New-born Child of My Country

I'm moved by the flying bad news on the papers everyday. And I'm so disappointed that only few react on them. And if ever there are, most are mere complaints. Nothing more.

If we continue to complain and complain and just complain, then we create more chaos to complain about. We just make things worse by allowing ourselves to be stuck. No mobility, no progress. That's just it.

My Political Science instructor (Atty. Daytec), an admiring woman lawyer and patriot, has opened a new world. Social awareness. And White&Blue, the University's official publication, has drawn me to a deeper pit: social involvement. Then put in the mixture a Sociology class. Boom! I now know a truth: I am a part of the society, so is the society a part of me. We WERE parallel; we ARE parallel; we WILL always be parallel. The society did, does, and will do something to my shaping as a human. I, in turn, did, does and will do something, however small, to the course of that society I am in.

The Philippine Society. A mess, as many has been viewing it. I cannot oppose such for I myself sometimes is one of the "many". But a day tells it isn't or would it be safer to say "it won't". Well, things get messed up but if there are those who care to get them fixed... the outcome is something no one could miss.

When we had a practicum in n our speech class (Public Speaking and Argumentation), this realization is what I wanted my audience (my classmates) to start realizing. My score was not satisfying but the result was otherwise. Yes, some of them had laughed at me and coded me "makabayan" or something like that. I had anticipated that. But I was not shamed. They were. And they'll know it in time.

This was my [persuasive] speech:

“What hope is left for the Philippines? Why bother myself thinking about how could I prevent E-VAT from eating up those who are already crawling to feed themselves? Besides, after I graduate I'll fly to U.S. and leave this chaotic impoverished country. And who said I'll return? Huh! No way.”

It's unbelievable if you haven't heard these words from students.

All of us here are no longer children who still listen to fairy tales, nor are we high school students who are still preoccupied with puppy love stories. We are now college students who must have a wider horizon and who must be involved in more serious issues that affect everyone, even us. We must be conscious of those who suffer the scourge of injustice and poverty. Conscious, yes you are. But who among of you sympathize with them?

(Show the picture). Let me have a fictional history. When the world was still young and this house was newly built, people were filled with laughters—a proof that happiness is winning over despair. As time rolls, however, things had altered.

It has become a dungeon of living corpses. Termites have begun destroying it. People suffer, die, and let out no laughter anymore but agonizing cries. Every dweller is tied in the rope of misery.

This is the Philippines—a country eaten up by “termites”. Termites? Graft and corruption. Conflicts. Dirty politics. Abuse of power. Oppression. Unemployment. Poverty. Injustice. LACK OF PATRIOTISM.

Patriotism means love of one's homeplace, and of the familiar things and scenes associated with it. This homeplace is a family where an individual finds himself not an alien. Even if he leaves homeplace for a larger world, finding delight in its variety and novelty, he delights as much in returning to familiar things. This is the so-called associative bond. We become devoted to the people, places and ways that nurture us, and what is familiar and nurturing seems also natural and right. This is the root of patriotism which I aim to let sprout in everyone of you.

Most of you do not care whatever happens to the Philippines because you are already sure of going to US, or to Canada, or to London, or to wherever money is greater.

“Eh ano naman kung gawing trash can ng Japan ang Pilipinas? Lalayas rin naman ako rito.” While still young, we must not instill in our minds this insensitivity. “Don't scratch your head too hard! That's a problem for the grown-ups." you may argue with me. But, are we not yet grown-ups? Can we not yet think for ourselves? Can we not yet make our own decisions?

Practicality speaks. It pushes most of us to go abroad and earn money our country is not able to give us. But how many has dared to return or even just tried to help his land-of-origin? What about us, students, how many of us plan to leave and never to come back?

Why do you have to offer your intelligence to other countries, when in fact, your country is badly needing you? Why do you have to attain for money greater than what you need when in fact, there are those who do not even have a centimo, do not even eat?

Atty. Daytec said in her blog: "Sometimes, we turn a blind eye to the scenes because we want to get on with our lives and because we feel that our individual efforts are so insignificant that they could not overturn the prevailing misery. We seek the comforts of our homes, feast on our tables, thank the Good Lord for our good lives and ask Him to insulate us from the blight of deprivation. To shake off the guilt, we tell ourselves that destitution -hunger, injustice, oppression- is a manifestion of indolence."

She's no more than true. Why, why do we have to be so oblivious?

See this child? How many more of him wander in the soil of this land? How many more of him cry because of spoliation? Oh, and how it resembles the face our country! How many more of him could finally break your heart?

There's nothing more factual than fact. A fact that the Philippines is struggling so hard; that it dreams of standing on its own feet and holding its head high. But will you be letting this dream sleep forever?

The Philippines is where you have first seen real beauty; is where you have your first sunrise, first sunset; is where you have first sung the notes of a moonlight; is where the people who have heard your cry that has given hope of a brighter day. It is here you have first tasted life. You must know that you owe this country. It's not asking you to pay back. But can you return the favor? Can you be the first to live its dream?

My fellow students, this is my plea. Good day."

I'll be continuing to plead... even on this page.

The World's Sole Real HEROINE

Thank God computers were born and blogging has become possible. I would have been merely staring at my ceiling during times I don't have so much things to do. How unproductive could that be!

A bit of introduction. I won't talk about computers and blogging, of course for I lack expertise on those highly-technical topics.

Mayroong isang nilalang na sa wari mo ay ordinaryo lamang. Ngunit bigyan mo ang iyong sarili ng panahon para makapag-isip. Mapapangiti ka sa naisip mo. You'll come to realize and tell yourself that this one creature has been shaping your life from the day you're still a 'concept'.

I can not imagine the world without HER. Plato, the greatest philosopher, would have not been a philosopher at all and his knowledge would have not been moving mankind towards reality; Yuri Gagarin would haven't been the first to fly the outer space; science would've not been admiring Albert Einstein as the Forever-Genius; William Shakespeare would have not been able to romanticize the world and the heart would've stayed as a hollow chamber. Many great people would have not been great. YOU and ME would have not been embracing all of the world's beauty (and ugliness) if SHE has never lived. And Jesus would have not become human to proclaim the kingdom of God if MARY hadn't existed.

For nine months, she conceives you in her womb, nurtures you with all that is essential for your life. But that's not the end of her love because as you come out and see the world, her hands will forever sway you with the hymn of her sweet lullabies. Her lessons will be forever inscribed and you will always go back and learn them over and over.

You grow up and gain your independence. You've thought you'll never need her again so you take her for granted now. Sinasagot-sagot mo siya na parang kaedad mo lang; kung makasigaw ka sa kanya, parang kaklase mo lang na hindi nagpapalamon sa iyo at nagpakahirap dalhin ang bigat ng buhay mong nagsimula pa sa siyam na buwang nasa sinapupunan ka niya.

Darating ang panahong kailangan mong lumisan sa piling niya. Mag-aaral ka sa malayo. Mabigat man sa loob niya ang mawalay sa'yo, hahayaan ka niya kasi alam niya na nakasalalay ang kinabukasan mo sa malayong lugar na pupuntahan mo. Matagal pa ang pag-alis mo pero alam mo bang gabi-gabi ay nababasa na ang unan niya dahil sa mga luha ng napipintong pangungulila at sa paggising niya, sa isang sulok sa kusina habang pinaghahanda ka niya ng almusal, luha na ang kanyang bukang-liwayway?

Araw na nga ng pag-alis mo. Her pain is ineffable on that day her child needs to leave her side for how long, she'll never guess. Tuwang-tuwa ka dahil sa wakas kakalas ka na sa mahigpit niyang hawak. Tuwang-tuwa ka dahil magagawa mo na ang mga gusto mo na wala na siyang nagbabawal sa'yo.

You arrived in your destination at last. Your first months have been so great--party here, shopping there. You go home whenever you want.

After a year...

While you lie on your bed tonight, you draw her face on the air. You're sick--a little fever. Then you cry. You cry like you just have lost something really valuable. You miss your mom. You miss the way she worries when you get sick-- she would lie beside your bed and check on you every now and then; she would stop everything she's doing just to make sure you're okay. You know you won't be able to bear losing her and you'll never want her to leave. Who will be smiling at you when you go home? Who will cook your favorite dish that only she can hit your taste? Who will straighten things up when you get them wrong? Who will ever believe in what you can do? Who will tell you again and again the facts of life you first heard from her? Who will love you unconditionally?

Now that distance has refrained you from seeing her everyday; now that maturity has taken the good things of your childhood, you cry. You cry for the illusion--merely an illusion-- of having her around, cooking you real food, getting your bath ready, laying your clothes on the bed before you go to school, and telling you of life while you both reside under the starry sky.

You scream at the top of your lungs. You scream how much you miss her. You ask yourself: "Why can't I just be a child and sit on her lap and listen to her stories?"

As words flow on the screen of my computer, my tears fall and my sight blurs. Yes, I miss my mom too. My day wasn't so good. People were so mean to me-- as if they want to say that pain can't penetrate me; that I never get mad.

As I walked my way home, tears ran down my cheeks. I knew, after unlocking my room's door, I'm going to find nothing but the mess I left the other day and talk to no one but myself. I cried as I changed my clothes. I wish Mom's here. Her presence might have made me stronger. Her voice might have calmed the storm I'm in. Her arms might have guarded me from all the perils this world has exposed me to.

How I miss those afternoons I dumped my bag down and headed for the kitchen to find her cooking adobo, my favorite. I would then hug her and tell her about my crush confessing he likes me all the same. Then I would happily tell her my boyfriend's breaking up with me. I would share whatever had happened to me at school (or wherever I go). But she's distant from me now. I can't hug nothing but my pillow.

Everyday, I wish it's vacation. I really really wanna go home.:(

There are two poems I made for her (for the Mother's Day):

Tinig ng Isang Anak

Nakakabinging katahimikan,
Nakakabulag na kadiliman.
Nasa'n ako'y 'di mawari,
Tanging alam, sa pag-ibig mo nagkukubli.

Muntik ang mundo'y 'di ko nasilayan,
Muntik ako'y sinalang mo sa kamatayan,
Oh ina, salamat iyong dininig
Buhayin ako, ang puso mo ay pinintig.

Salamat iyong pinakinggan,
Matandang nagsabing ako'y hagkan,
'Pagkat ako raw magiging dahilan,
Pagtingala sa iyo ng ninuman.

Ina, naging tama ba siya?
Tama ba desisyon mong ako'y buhayin pa?
Kay tamis pakinggan oo mong sagot,
Pinapagaan buhay na masalimuot.

Kailan ko ba huling ibinulalas
Mga katagang ni minsa'y 'di pinagsawaan?
Ina, kailan mo huling napagmasdan
Matang kato'hanan lamang ang pinamalas?

Sa pag-ibig mo, walang makakapantay;
Pag-aruga mong saki'y 'di nangamatay;
Kaya bilang pasasalamat sa iyo,
Katagang sana sa puso ay sasamyo.

Hindi ako tataga sa bato,
o magbibitiw ng pangakong mapapako.
Ayokong ang puso mo, ina, ay mabiyak,
Katauha'y nagugunaw 'pag nakita kang umiyak.

Panaginip mo, aking bubuhayin,
Pangarap mo, aking tutuparin:
Anuman ang sa daan ay nakaamba,
Ikaw sa isip, lahat n'yan ay mabubura.

Tadhana man ay mapaglaro,
Sasabay tayo sa pag-ikot nito;
At kung darating ang panahong tayo'y paghihiwalayin,
'Wag kang umiyak dahil ako'y anak mo
at ika'y aking ina pa rin.

Walang sinuman ang sa puso'y makakapag-alis
sa pag-ibig ko sa iyong wangis.
Ina, mahal kita (pati na rin si Ama),
Habambuhay ko itong idadala.

_iann
20Apr08

My mom had planned to abort me. She never told me why and I don't nag her about it. It's enough to know she changed her mind and I'm still breathing ang being so much loved by her.

The Only Goddess Who had Lived

In the crude mind of a child,
An enigmatic deity is alive,
But in an adult's, it's unlike,
A fancy that's never been to life.

Yes, I'd grown from Mother's tale,
And now to the sea of truth, I sail;
Yet with my eyes, I've seen it all
the unraveling of a goddess soul.

A symphony she begins to lilt,
With all my heart, I've listened:
In every hum of her voice so sweet,
Soaring the air, my spirit's free.
She whispered: "Let your eyes be opened."
And the first light dawned on me.

How lovely the roving light flies,
When it strikes her wand'ring eyes!
She walks to me and say:
"Don't fear, my child,
In my arms, you may lay."

She embossoms me with love,
Vast as the skies and realms above.
In this world so forlorn,
She's the pure stream of hope.

She gives me wings and teaches me fly,
To rise from earth and glide high.
At thy command, the wind will sway,
Wasteland of agony was swept away.

With a faithful tongue, I sing her glories,
Her blazing fire, nothing could seize;
The aria that filled the nightly sky,
Her songs of peace will never die.

Oh, Mother, who can ever play your part?
or describe the sweetness of your heart?
Truly, you're an epiphany of a goddess,
To come from your womb is a bless.

_iann
20Apr2008

It's amazing how the string of connection between a child and a mother grows stronger as time runs faster. And that associative bond will always make you want to go back to the familiar things at home--to the safe embrace of your mother.

To all whose mother has left the country for a job, love your mother more than any one else.

Sa araw ng kanyang paglipad patungo sa kabilang dayo ng dagat, ikaw ang laman ng kanyang rason. At sa bawat pag-uwi niya'y lagi siyang uhaw sa yakap mo. Ngunit sa sandaling kailangan niya ulit ang bumalik sa bansang nagbibigay sa kanya ng pag-asang magkakaroon ka ng maliwanag na bukas, ikinukubli na lamang niya ang mga tagaktak ng luhang unti-unting dumudurog sa kanyang puso dahil alam niyang ang kahabaan ng muling pagkawalay niya sa'yo ay walang katiyakan.

Huwag mo sanang ipagsawalang-bahala ang lahat ng sakripisyong tanging ang ina mo lamang ang makakagawa.

Kailan mo ipapakita kung gaano siya kahalaga? Kailan mo siya pasasalamatan sa mga halakhak at luhang inialay niya sa'yo? Kailan mo sasabihing mahal mo rin siya?

Don't wait for her death. It's then too late.

_iann
28Aug2008

What "Rumination of Existence" is all about

Green carpet stretches over the horizon. It masks the coarseness of a field and shows off how the grass sway with the wind and how the field be a real carpet that gives prestige to the singing crickets and playing dragonflies and hopping grasshoppers and laughing butterflies and dancing bugs. At the far-end of this field is a downward slope; rocks lie before the bed of sands--yes, the seashore. Waves come rushing, as if they are trying to push and crash and wrench these rocks. Their success, no one knows when. This is the cry of the sea that is most vividly heard at night, when the moon and stars hum the lullaby of the naiads; this is the cry that is most silent when the abyss that lies in the vast realm of the ocean swallows the sun but never reflects its light. And this is a million-worth painting of world's perfection yet at the same time a trashed faded picture of imperfection.

With the sparrows on cherry trees and the eagles contouring the boundless sky, drowning themselves on puffy flowing clouds, I sit on the open window of my room and watch the changing world. And I steal glimpses on life--a subject that takes not only on what the eyes could see on the surface but on what both the mind and the eyes could grasp beyond.

Rumination of Existence is about almost everything life hands human beings-- and is always in duality. It presents primarily the ugliness and beauty of creation. And, yes, this is human view of life itself.

True, life is twisted...croaked...unpredictable. More often than not, we hate it. We are led to roads we have never imagined or even wanted of traveling. We feel cursed when things do not turn out the way we wanted them to be, when they threaten our ego, when they go against our favor. And we usually seek for something or someone to blame. Then when we cannot hold on any longer, we conclude that the world [and everything that goes with it] is so ugly and life has always been so bad and we are its victims.

Man has feet but he cannot walk.

Man has hands but he cannot hold.

Man has ears but he is deaf.

Man has eyes but he is blind.

Man has heart but he is numb.

Man has mind but he cannot understand.

Man has life but almost everyday he dies.

Or is he just too good an actor and these are all shams?

Man is not the perfect image of Life for life has no image but itself. He must think of the minnows in ponds, the dolphins in seas, the birds in clouds, the antelopes in deserts-- they all breathe oxygen. And the flowers in gardens of the Forest bloom through that power that makes animals and human live. All of these, like human, shelter life in their veins.

Rumination of Existence is a human, a naturalist, a patriot… and anything (or anyone) you want it to be.^^,

__iann

14Aug08