KAIBIGANG THAI
August 10, 1991
Diyaryo Filipino
Tatlong gabi na akong nagpupunta
Sa templong ating pinagtatagpuan
Ngunit bakit ang nalalambungang buwan
At malamig na tansong Buddha lamang
Ang aking nasusumpungan?
Kanina, pitong maya ang aking binili
At pinakawalan,
Umaasang maligaw ang isa
Sa iyong kinalalagyan
At magpapaalala sa iyo na ako,
Sa loob ng templo, ay nag-aabang.
Bakit nga ba’t
Hindi na kita natutunghayan?
Ni salita o tanda,
Ikaw ay walang iniwan?
Mamaya, sa paanan ni Buddha,
Maghihintay akong muli.
Pagkasindi ng kandila
At pagkalagay ng kamanyang,
Pipikit ako’t magdarasal.
Sana, sa aking pagmulat,
Mukha mo’y aking nang masilayan.
WAT DOI SUTHEP
February 23, 1991
Diyaryo Filipino
Ayaw kong umakyat sa hagdanan
Ngunit kumakaway
Ang kahel na laylayan
Ng yapak na mongheng
May sapupong mangkok
Sa rosas na lansangan.
Ayaw kong lumapit sa tarangkahan
Ngunit ngumingiti
Ang mga inilalakong loto
Sa bitak-bitak na kamay
Ng patpating balo.
Ayaw kong sumilip sa templo
Ngunit nang-aakit
Ang masamyong insenso
Na sumasayaw sa paanan
Ng ngumingiting
Guro ng karunungan.
Hangin ng umagang
Ayaw pang iwan ng buwan,
Pakipinid ang pintuan
Sa aking likuran.
PAGPANAW
October 30, 1991
Diyaryo Filipino
Ibig kong maghandog ng isang bulaklak
Sa inyong paglalakbay
Ngunit hindi ko kayo maaaring puntahan.
Hindi ko kayo Ama.
Hindi ko kayo Ina.
Hindi ko kayo Kapatid.
Kaya, Lola,
Kayo na lamang ang dumaan
Sa aking kinaroroonan,
Ang pumitas ng oras
Sa aking halamanan.
At kapag makarating na kayo
Sa kabilang kaharian,
Hiling ko,
Ako ay inyong sabugan
Ng tatlong talulot ng bulaklak na tangan.
CHAMLONG
June 24, 1992
Diyaryo Filipino
Saan galing ang iyong galing
At nakamtan mo ang kalayaang hiling?
Tubig lamang ang iyong lakas
Ngunit maraming sumunod sa ‘yong bakas?
Ano ang iyong kapangyarihan:
Asul na mohum ba ng ‘sang magsasaka
O mga kamay ng isang manggagawa?
Na Chamlong, dala mo’y amihan?
(Chamlong was once Governor of Bangkok, Thailand)
LEVI’S BLUES
June 24, 1992
Diyaryo Filipino
Matagal nila akong nilunod,
Binugbog, pinukpok at sinubsob.
Matagak din nila akong ibinitin,
Ibinilad sa araw na mainitin,
Hanggang sa ako’y matuyo’t himatayin.
Nagising na lang ako sa halik
Ng plantsang ibig makipagtalik.
Ngayon, habang pinagninilayan
Ang karanasang pinagdaanan,
Naaalala ko si Mang Juan
At ang sakit na kanyang sinapit
Sa mga kamay ng malulupit
Dahil ayaw daw niyang umawit.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
5 English Poems
CATECHISM
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
God is a strong God.
I tell my Subanen pupils
As I hammer a nail back to its hole to hold the whole blackboard.
He provides for all I need, I further declare,
As a look at their protruding cheekbones and then their tattered collars.
He gives us the sun, the moon, and the stars,
As well as the miswa we scoop from our bowls
Or the roasted bulad, I babble on, as I stare at their drooping shoulders
And their long, lean limbs which probably never knew fat.
And he saves.
If, in the past, he us from from evil Egyptians,
Now, he delivers us from wicked persons, I proclaim,
As I notice a wound on one young boy’s left ear
And a welt on one young girl’s forehead
Cleverly concealed under her cute kiss me’s.
For us, I piously announce, the Lord offered himself on the Cross
So that . . . so that . . . so what? I asked.
So that we will all get to heaven, they cheerily chorused.
I smile. Then, as if on cue, they all shout,
Amen!
ROCK
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
As the shadows gather, my father’s face easens
And his lips loosen into a smile.
His smile which seem to penetrate hearts
And see through walls,
Turn into soft crystals that glimmer
With the sun’s last servings of gold.
Bible in hand, he ambles to the terrace
And reclines into his favorite rocking chair.
Then, seeing me play with wafers
Under our old, acacia tree—as I would want him to see,
He waves and beckons me to come and sit on his lap.
I run. Index finger with index finger,
We comb the pages in search of our favorite passage.
I have now committed it to memory.
But in my mind’s eye, I can see his mouth mutter,
The Lord is my rock and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
ONE FREE THROW
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
I sit by the bleachers watching.
The ball, steady in your hands,
Conceals the thumping in your heart.
Your breath you hold
While Time restrains itself from ticking.
Then with eyes fixed on the ring
You release and throw
All fear, all hope and ball
Into the air . . . then into the goal.
Now as you sit on the shoulders of a friend
While the confetti rain and the balloons drop
I wonder what thoughts crossed your mind
When you aimed that shot.
And I begin to think of my other small attempts
That that one point free throw of yours
Which made all the difference.
OPENNESS
January 12, 2008
Philippine Graphic
I often think that most of us lead closed lives.
We, with our books:
You and your adventures with Odysseus and Telemachus,
I and my struggles with the One God, Two Procession,
Three Persons, Four Relations and Five Notions.
Then one August morning
When the sun relieved us
Of the cold, relentless rain,
I looked into your transparent jalousies,
Turned the knob of your unlocked door,
And sat on your empty easy chair.
Until then, I never realized
How openness could be so refreshing.
SIR JOSE
March 13, 1998
The Independent Post
Yes, Sir, I still stalk the streets in search of sons long missing.
Through the years, I haven’t given upon on Basilio and Crispin
For I see traces of their faces in every street child I meet:
Basilio’s flat nose in one, Crispin’s broad jaws in another.
I press on – this time, not only for the children I bore, Sir,
But for the helpless others snatched by scheming sacristans of society
From a waiting mother’s warm embrace and the hot supper she has prepared.
I wonder that has become of my companions, Sir:
Ibarra, Maria Clara, Filosofo Tasio, and those pious ladies
Who ceaselessly argue about the merit of their plenario indulgencias.
How we enjoyed each other’s company then:
We telling you about our stories, and you, writing about us,
To release us from the bondage of suffering in anonymity
And make us live in the minds of fellow Filipinos who dare care.
They say, that you are an ambitious doctor, Sir, if not strange.
For you not only try to heal that which ails the physical eye
But that which also stunts the mind and blurs this mind’s vision.
That for those who have lost hope, you urge them on to dream;
That for those who wish to take up arms, you offer a non-violent way to freedom.
Thus, they have no choice but to shoot you, Sir, they argue:
Making people see, clearly and differently, is dangerous.
Thus, I often wonder, Sir, who is more privileged between the two of us:
You’re rich, you’re brilliant, but you lost your life;
I’m poor, I’m unlettered, but I only lost my mind.
No, no, I don’t think that should be the proper question, Sir.
For, when I do reflect on it, it does not really matter
Whether a person loses his life or limb or mind
As long as it is for the good of the Fatherland.
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
God is a strong God.
I tell my Subanen pupils
As I hammer a nail back to its hole to hold the whole blackboard.
He provides for all I need, I further declare,
As a look at their protruding cheekbones and then their tattered collars.
He gives us the sun, the moon, and the stars,
As well as the miswa we scoop from our bowls
Or the roasted bulad, I babble on, as I stare at their drooping shoulders
And their long, lean limbs which probably never knew fat.
And he saves.
If, in the past, he us from from evil Egyptians,
Now, he delivers us from wicked persons, I proclaim,
As I notice a wound on one young boy’s left ear
And a welt on one young girl’s forehead
Cleverly concealed under her cute kiss me’s.
For us, I piously announce, the Lord offered himself on the Cross
So that . . . so that . . . so what? I asked.
So that we will all get to heaven, they cheerily chorused.
I smile. Then, as if on cue, they all shout,
Amen!
ROCK
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
As the shadows gather, my father’s face easens
And his lips loosen into a smile.
His smile which seem to penetrate hearts
And see through walls,
Turn into soft crystals that glimmer
With the sun’s last servings of gold.
Bible in hand, he ambles to the terrace
And reclines into his favorite rocking chair.
Then, seeing me play with wafers
Under our old, acacia tree—as I would want him to see,
He waves and beckons me to come and sit on his lap.
I run. Index finger with index finger,
We comb the pages in search of our favorite passage.
I have now committed it to memory.
But in my mind’s eye, I can see his mouth mutter,
The Lord is my rock and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
ONE FREE THROW
January 12, 1998
Philippine Graphic
I sit by the bleachers watching.
The ball, steady in your hands,
Conceals the thumping in your heart.
Your breath you hold
While Time restrains itself from ticking.
Then with eyes fixed on the ring
You release and throw
All fear, all hope and ball
Into the air . . . then into the goal.
Now as you sit on the shoulders of a friend
While the confetti rain and the balloons drop
I wonder what thoughts crossed your mind
When you aimed that shot.
And I begin to think of my other small attempts
That that one point free throw of yours
Which made all the difference.
OPENNESS
January 12, 2008
Philippine Graphic
I often think that most of us lead closed lives.
We, with our books:
You and your adventures with Odysseus and Telemachus,
I and my struggles with the One God, Two Procession,
Three Persons, Four Relations and Five Notions.
Then one August morning
When the sun relieved us
Of the cold, relentless rain,
I looked into your transparent jalousies,
Turned the knob of your unlocked door,
And sat on your empty easy chair.
Until then, I never realized
How openness could be so refreshing.
SIR JOSE
March 13, 1998
The Independent Post
Yes, Sir, I still stalk the streets in search of sons long missing.
Through the years, I haven’t given upon on Basilio and Crispin
For I see traces of their faces in every street child I meet:
Basilio’s flat nose in one, Crispin’s broad jaws in another.
I press on – this time, not only for the children I bore, Sir,
But for the helpless others snatched by scheming sacristans of society
From a waiting mother’s warm embrace and the hot supper she has prepared.
I wonder that has become of my companions, Sir:
Ibarra, Maria Clara, Filosofo Tasio, and those pious ladies
Who ceaselessly argue about the merit of their plenario indulgencias.
How we enjoyed each other’s company then:
We telling you about our stories, and you, writing about us,
To release us from the bondage of suffering in anonymity
And make us live in the minds of fellow Filipinos who dare care.
They say, that you are an ambitious doctor, Sir, if not strange.
For you not only try to heal that which ails the physical eye
But that which also stunts the mind and blurs this mind’s vision.
That for those who have lost hope, you urge them on to dream;
That for those who wish to take up arms, you offer a non-violent way to freedom.
Thus, they have no choice but to shoot you, Sir, they argue:
Making people see, clearly and differently, is dangerous.
Thus, I often wonder, Sir, who is more privileged between the two of us:
You’re rich, you’re brilliant, but you lost your life;
I’m poor, I’m unlettered, but I only lost my mind.
No, no, I don’t think that should be the proper question, Sir.
For, when I do reflect on it, it does not really matter
Whether a person loses his life or limb or mind
As long as it is for the good of the Fatherland.
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