Cease to maim

We have stopped
speaking in knives.

Afraid no longer
of mines still buried
in the ruined city
of our affections.

Atin Ang Gabi

Ikaw, ako,

kape at kuwento.

Dala ng magkaugnay na hapdi

itong higpit ng pagsalubong sa sandali.

Ito ang naging simula:

Minsan tayo ay tumigil sa paggalaw

at nanatili sa iisang lugar.

Hinayaan ang banggaan ng mga kapalarang iba-iba ang tangan.

Bumalik tayo sa nagdaang panahon.

Ikaw at ako, sila --- ang pinagsaluhan.

Binilang ang araw ng pagsasama

nang sabay tapon sa mga panghihinayang.

Ipinaaalala sa atin na wala na rin namang silbi

ang pag-inda sa lungkot na minsan nilang dala.

Tiyak ang paglaho ng kung anong bahid ng alinlangan.

Hindi natin sila kailangan.

At naganap ang hindi inaasahan: Napunit ang langit

sa pagsiklab ng sandali.

Ating ipinagdiwang itong minsang pagtatagpo

sa pinakamahabang gabi.

Ngunit walang katiyakan

itong pananatili ng mga sandali,

bagamat magkatabi at masaya

hanggang sa tahimik na pag-uwi.

Sa ngayon nababalutan ng pag-unawa itong pagsasama.

Isinantabi sa kaloob-loobang sulok ang pananabik.

Maselan ang pagbitaw sa mga salita.

Walang nangangako sa takot na walang maaako.

Hanggang sa muli,

mananatili sa kalagitnaan itong tagpo.

Di tiyak ang pagpapatuloy o pagtatapos

ng ating kuwento.

Someone beat me to it

Finding the words before I did ---

We talked about nothing in particular, but it felt like we were talking about the most important things.

 Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Yep, there are things I sure miss.

"Hey, you," said I, as I wave to you in dreams that vanish in the morning, snippets of which hover in the air as I make my morning coffee.

Anyhoo...

Trying to a write a poem with se[x]nsual undertones. Progress report: Not very successful.

This may not see the light of day or am I the only one who thinks writing/revising a piece can take forever? This rediscovery is (still) scaring me but reining it in. And trying my hardest to catch up. Or keep up?

Of course there are the questions: Must everything always be tested by time? Must things always take time? Time to heal, to evolve, to make sense of? Time -- that which I do not have -- is slipping away like a missed train I want to be very much on.

Obviously, patience is not a strong suit. Also, a penchant for stating the obvious. Minus 5.

Starting to get sick of the voices inside my head. Three words: Not good enough.

I have been feeling better --- and worst. One more so than the other; guess which. 

But, trying to make a conscious effort to see the glass half full. As in 'seeing' -- really -- and not merely 'looking'. To inject some sense of "Yes, I understand." Which means getting over Things Not Going As Hoped, Things Not Happening, and Being Too Hard On Self.

Fighting off this anchorage. Let go -- it's ok -- let go.
Fight.

For now, a poem by e.e. cummings -- because words are elusive sometimes, like butterflies.

Lady, I will touch you with my mind.

Touch you and touch and touch until you give

me suddenly a smile shyly obscene.

Lady, I will touch you with my mind.

Touch you, that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become

with infinite care

the poem which I do not write.

----

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