I listened to E-Head’s “Ligaya”,
blaring out from the radio.
I felt the pain like a drug
and I became keenly aware
that life and love were real.
And my wayward thoughts
Suddenly
Grappled
with images of you.

“Sagutin mo lang ako, aking sinta’y walang humpay, na ligaya
At asahang iibigin ka, sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga
Wag ka sanang magtanong at magduda
Dahil ang puso ko’y walang pangamba
Lahat tayo’y mabubuhay na tahimik at buong ligaya.“

The song ran round my head —
a bitter accompaniment to a malady.
The sly wind whispered against my ear
with a kiss, she tells me to stop.
Suddenly
Abruptly
Malate church stood impassive
amidst the fading light.

I stepped across its threshold,
swallowed by the darkness within.
I looked up to see Christ,
hanging on sticks
suspended on air
between heaven and earth.
Kept by an unseen force
in His place,
despite the sorrow
written on His face.

And I wondered about you,
in the stillness of your other life.
Neither man nor a god.
Sinner nor saint.
Will you utter a prayer for me now,
under the guidance of your vow?
Will you think of me,
beneath the sanctity of your robes?
Will you gaze at the damned
with pity in your eyes?

Does your hand stray to your lips,
In the solitude of your bliss?

“Only fifty pesos.”
The peddler’s raw voice
brought me back to reality.
I turned and saw him offering
a puppet to a little boy,
Making it dance on strings.
Suddenly
Painfully
I felt so strained.
And the words of the song,
Came
Like an Angelus for the undead
It played.

“Dahil ang puso ko’y walang pangamba
Lahat tayo’y mabubuhay na tahimik at buong ligaya.”

Malate Church by Ricardo Villaruel in deviantART

You towered beside me
on the dry compact dirt.

Seizing the pail and shovel
from my hands,
you dug into
the unyielding earth.

Patiently you formed
turrets, windows and a bridge.
Your fingers molded and shaped
a gleaming golden citadel —
the silent testimony
to your determined creativity.

It is a home fit for a queen,
bordered by the placid silver waters,
and guarded by the unwavering stare,
of the blind jealous sun.

You dressed it up
with combs of flags,
strings of shells and
smooth sparkling pebbles —
finishing touches
to your magnificent creation.

You never noticed the changes
gradually taking place ….

The tide is turning.
The silent waters are churning,
and the sea is raging.
The daylight is rapidly fading,
and the sunset is coming.

Your castle is crumbling.

As the waves are advancing,
your fortress flounders and falls.
It exuberantly ceases to be
as it is taken away
into the warm womb,
of the triumphant life-giving sea.

You towered beside me
on the dry compact dirt.

Seizing the pail and shovel
from my hands,
you dug into
the unyielding earth.

Patiently you formed
turrets, windows and a bridge.
Your fingers molded and shaped
this gleaming golden citadel,
a silent testimony
to your determined creativity.

It is a home fit for a queen,
bordered by the silent silver waters,
and guarded by the unwavering stare,
of the blind jealous sun.

You embellished it
with flags, shells and pebbles —
the finishing touches
to your creation ….

Spawn of your imagination.

You turned and presented it to me,
expecting my consent and approval,
but you’re not gifted Pygmalion
and I’m not the Galatea of your illusions,
who will meekly cater to
your needs and satisfaction.

The daylight is fading
and the tide is coming.

Your castle is crumbling.

As the waves are advancing,
your fortress flounders and falls.
It mournfully ceases to be
as it is washed away,
by the raging unforgiving sea.

Will you sail away with me
on the summer air?
Like a dandelion
soaring high
across the bluest sky
bound for parts unknown?

Will you touch me
on the sultry folds
of the summer sand?
Engulfed by the raging flames
of the brazenly bold
eternal sun.

Will you whisper to me
words lost
in the summer wind?
As our lips shamelessly confess
the communion of bodies, rejoicing
in this shared pleasurable sin.

Will you hold me
dreamily
in a summer kiss?
Like lovers entwined
in a desperate dance,
before time and reality
can bear witness
against this place …
this moment …
and snatch away
these memories
born by an elusive
summer day.

Her email asked me a couple of questions, but they were questions that couldn’t be easily answered. Her words stared back at me from the screen and I struggled for the right thing to say.

She was asking me how long will the grief last, how long will the pain of losing someone you love last.

After a while, I decided to answer her as honestly as I could. Why? Because I wished someone told me the same things when my mom died instead of trying to sugarcoat the reality of the situation for me.

I told her that the grieving will never stop, because there are still moments in my life when I still catch myself crying whenever I remember my mom, but I did tell her that in time, the emptiness and the pain will be much easier to bear.

I also told her that she might reach a point when she will get angry with the world and with the people around her, and that’s okay. I was enraged for a long time. I couldn’t believe people could go about their lives laughing and be so blissfully unaware, I mean, how could they enjoy life when someone who used to make me laugh, who used to fill my life with love was now suddenly gone? It just didn’t make sense and it felt so unreal and so unfair.

If I told her about rage, I also told her that unlike the pain, the anger will vanish in time. She will learn to smile and laugh again, because if there’s one thing death could make anyone realize, is that life is too short to remain angry for too long.

I also warned her that she might suddenly start to have questions about faith. I told her that when my mom died, “there was a part of me that rebelled against God and questioned Him and life in general”. But God is a patient God and He never turned His back on me when this happened. I reached a point when I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I ranted, I raged, I talked to Him as if He was in the room with me and I cried. I cried out all my fury and my pain, and I knew that He heard me and He listened. I can’t explain how, but I knew that He was there the whole time I dished it out. After that, things started getting better.

Above everything else, I told my friend that she will survive. Life will not be as sweet as it used to be, but she will overcome and survive, and that’s what matters the most.

As my friend told me the tragedy which befell him, I saw how tired and broken he looked. I patiently listed to him and I gleaned from his story that the very same people he trusted had betrayed him and pounced on him like a pack of hungry savage wolves. These people he protected and defended so many times in the past, just suddenly, for their own personal interests, struck him with the fatal blow without any hesistation at all.

My friend was devastated and when we talked last he told me that maybe these people did not realize the effect their actions would have on his family and on his life. I shook my head silently because I believed otherwise. I am convinced that they knew exactly what they were doing, but they did it, because they did not care and they felt no remorse and because some men, as Alfred in Batman once said, just want to watch the world burn.

I felt rage boiling within me like white acid flames, spilling out from the very core of my being — and it was at that point that I felt acutely human …. I vainly struggled to drown out the anger and to remember that perhaps, just like those people, I myself have committed things in the past which hurt others. If only I had the patience and inexhaustible mercy of God …. If only I was beyond human pettiness …. but then, that’s the rub isn’t it? I am human and as such I do succumb to these human shortcomings, and because of that, I would never look at those people the same way again, and I’m hoping that the law of karma is indeed true. Ah good Lord, please forgive me ….

This is Between Us

Will I tell you my secret?
Will I whisper it to your ear?
Will I bare to you my problems
and my fears?

Can I trust you to keep silent?
Can you keep my story safe?
Can you be a true friend,
someone who will defend me at the end?

Will you lend a hand?
Will you go out of your way,
to be my support?
Will you help me to stand?

Or am I seeing shadows?
Snared by illusions that you weave?
Falling prey to your charm
and deceit.

Will you stab me behind my back?
Will you point to others
virtues I bitterly lack?
Tell them my dilemmas,
without the facts.
Embellish the situations.
Paint an exaggerated picture,
make me the centerpiece;
the main dish —
the article of your criticism
and your derision.

Vandalize me
in the world of your creation.

You pretended to listen,
acted like you understood.
But secretly you rejoiced,
as you sang and danced
on my desolate wasted land.

As we look in the mirror
Who is the worst?
I, with my tragic face;
or you with your arrogant smile
flaunting your
merciless devious grace.

from http://www.fotolia.com

We are (not) soul sisters
(un) bound kins by (in)visible
(barely) discernable common lines.

Come (not) and have (not) a seat
(Un) Commune and (un)partake
(Sever) Spin this yarn
with me.

Shall we (un) weave together
our (un) shared history
as mothers and daughters,
wives and mistresses,
spinsters and damsels?

Living (Dying)
(dis) united together (scattered)
in common blessing (burden)
speaking the same (different) tongue
worshipping one God (Goddess).

In homes (houses)
in places of worship (damnation)
singing (lamenting)
the same myths (truths).
Shall we give voice (keep silent)
and see with clear (blinded) eyes;

the (tragic) celebrated fate
of our (fractured) connected race?
For we are
after all (in the end)
(not) soul sisters ….

The public first saw him in a celebrity duet singing contest a few years ago on national television. He was described then as a Pinoy football player from Chelsea. He became an instant celebrity after that gig not because of his singing prowess but because of his guy-next-door image considering he is a half-Filipino and half-Brit.  Several … Read More

via Rule of Thumb

I looked down on the cup of coffee I was savouring up until that unfortunate moment when the implications imbedded in the tagline hit me. I put the coffee down with a weary shake of my head and proceeded to take the commercial apart in my mind.

Unfortunately, since the Spanish period, women in the Philippine society have been assigned specific roles, behaviours, functions and even way of thinking that are deemed to be acceptable within standard norms. If the woman would delineate from these “pre-ordained” social roles and behaviour, then she would be branded as a “bad”, “bitchy”, “eccentric”, “zany” or even as an “immoral” woman who should be shunned and ostracized. This is the harsh reality that women had to live by.

However, the modern period and especially the rise of Feminism have somewhat alleviated the female condition. Finally, women began to fight for their rights and little by little society began to recognize the inherent rights of women to decide for themselves, to vote, to engage in intellectual discourses, to be heard and to assert what they want to happen in their lives. Yet, we still need to ask the question: have women truly come of age as a social group, or are they enjoying these so-called “liberties” because the world they live in has “allowed” them to do so?

Women only have to look around them in order to realize that they still live in a society that is still male-dominated, and yes, women were given “freedom” (can we really call it that?) but only to a certain extent. It is through subtle manipulation that women are still being “socialized” into accepting and fulfilling the roles assigned to them since time immemorial. The Nescafe commercial is an example of how this is still happening today. Analyze the latent message behind this ad and you will see that it is telling women that their sole purpose in life is to live for their family and to serve their family, for it is only by doing this that a woman would find fulfilment as an individual. “My dream is the realization of their dreams.” (Ang pangarap ko ay matupad ang mga pangarap nila .) Were women not individuals first before they became mothers and wives? What of their own dreams before they got married? Are they expected to become domestic slaves, foregoing their individuality and their dreams? Does society expect them to sacrifice their hopes for the stability of the family without even as much demanding the same commitment from men? Where is the equality in this? Where is the recognition of the rights of women? And why is this thought being promulgated?

It is all right to become a mother and a wife, there is nothing wrong with that, but there is more to a woman than just being a wife or being a mother. As women, our lives don’t just revolve around these two facets of our existence. People must remember — we are our own being, we have our own dreams, we have our own aspirations; and yes our families can make us happy, but they are not the sole source of our happiness. We should not be imprisoned within the confines of domestic “bliss” and “satisfaction” that ads like Nescafe is propagating. Simone De Beauvoir is right when she said that we should transcend; we must go beyond the roles that have been given to us; we must challenge ourselves to become better individuals, simply because we are women — we live, we love, we laugh — and most of all — we think.