Your Voice

We part ways down the stretch of Liberation Road.*

You traced the path that leads to “SanAg”¹

While I ventured the highways of the city and into the countryside

Where I journeyed nights and days in search

For some fugue² I was hearing faintly

As if by an elfin lady singing inside out of my restless heart

We part ways down the unpaved Liberation Road.

I beat around the bush trying to apprehend Brahms’ Symphony No. 3

While on your keyboard you engaged the masters³ in their Liederkreis⁴

Albeit you confront the worries of your spirit

To experiment on some fantasie⁵ to soothe the angst

Over those Sartrean predicaments out of my weary heart

We are far apart and they have cemented the Liberation Road.

Yet still I hear your voice sweetly singing songs

As if by an elfin lady enchanting Apollo with her rhymes

Soothing indeed it is for the hearers to listen to

Comforting the brood that nestles in your arms

Inspiring the hands to whom your heart finally finds rest.

Ah, your voice.

  

^*A minor thoroughfare in Iloilo City.

¹ University of San Agustin-Iloilo.

² The word 'fugue' comes from the Latin fuga (flight) and fugere (to flee). In music, it is a type of piece written in counterpoint for several independent musical voices. I am using it here however as a metaphor to dramatize the restlessness of one man’s heart in the context of St. Augustine of Hippo.

³Schubert and Schumann.

⁴ A series of songs tied by a single narrative or theme. It denotes consistency.

⁵ A musical composition with its roots in the art of improvisation. 

Engkantada

Abi ko bukid ka it Eumati

nga dapat katahapan;

Indi eo lat a kunta ako

magtukad ona sa imong nahamtangan.

Lin-ay ka gali nga bukon eang it

matam-is nga rambutan,

kundi nga ikaw hay bituon

nga haeandumon kung kaabuan.

Ylang-ylang rong imong humot

nga nagapukaw it bunayag

nga kahidlaw

Nagatubo sa tagudtod it Agtawagon

guinapanamgo nga masilungan

Engkantada sa akon nga panan-awan!

Sa Kakau-ihan

Ipinta ko kimo ro sang ka mad-ayad nga taean-awon
It mataas nga mga kakahuyan, sa maberdeng kagueangan
Ag daehon ta ikaw sa puno it Balete nga may pugad
Nga ginaugoy-ugoy it hangin, naga-eutaw sa kahawaan

Sa pagbutlak it adlaw, bueawanong agahon
Sa dahon nagakislap, pudyot-pudyot nga mga diamante
Sa imong palibot, nakapinta ro kulor it duna nga manggad
fiesta sa panan-awan!

Isugilanon mo kakon rong mga nagkahanabo sa banwa,
Kon ham-an nga nagapanampu-ayan si Rizal una sa plaza
Ano ro hutik ku maeubog nga Jae-o
Sa ginagutom nga mamumunit una sa pangpang ku suba

Ag akon nga idetalye sang ka tawo nga busog
Sa kada saeo-saeo, kulekta una sa buesa
Nga pirmi eang ginatupay kon hikatuegan gid man,
Sa katre nga Danguea ag mahaea nga kwarta.

“Ham-an nga ro mga engkantada hay maila?”,
Akon nga pangutana sa aton nga pagsunod
Sa daean paadto sa kahimtangan nga ginahandum naton nga maabot,
Sa lugar nga misteryuso.

“Ham-an nga kalbo eo’t a rong kagueangan?”,
Imo nga sabat, sa imong mga mata
Nakapinta rong haponanong lila, eakip ro mga pispis
Naga-eupad pauli sa kakau-ihan
—idto kon siin may anda pa nga masilungan.

A POEM FOR YOU

This is a poem
supposedly made for you.
You seem to be unaware
so I thought through this
I could let you know.

Having you near me
is like having a glass of chilled Coke
after a day’s hike to the Agtawagon.
Or like Rafael’s saying,
“What a relief” when he enters
an air-conditioned room.

Being so close to you
makes me crave for a serving of
halo-halo.
It stirs me to write poems
as crazy as Leticia.

So you see the magic,
or the enchantment (whichever you prefer)
your presence can conjure…
But for sure,
you’ve awaken the creative in me
so that I found a way
to tell you that you mean more to me,
Fairy ko!

Crucified

To whom shall I turn to
To whose ears shall I cry it out
This dirge of pained heart,
Bewitched and led on
By an elfin lady so fair and enigmatic
Whose laughter of dawn
Has awakened my weary mind
And whose eyes of star
Has mirrored my wounded soul,
I shall wail out at Jenly’s Store
And sob shall I
In a quiet Marble Hall
On the resting hill of the fallen and the forgotten
But will the Jae-o remember its sad rhymes
Will the Balete tree understand its haunting sighs
Shall I then have my vindication
Once I uttered the Seven Last Words atop the hill of Agtawagon?

Desperado

I’m a withered leaf
Fallen early from a sturdy Balete tree;
I’m a juvenile caterpillar
Yet tired with this business of eating
And crawling and struggling for the top;
I’m an insignificant dirt
Trampled upon by busy feet
Along Ayala Avenue
Solitary and hopeless
Doubtful even of the dawn of another day.

Your Grief

Your bulging eyelids
Tell me that your pillow was again atop
your face last night
providing a perfect cover
suppressing the sobs
absorbing the tears
concealing the pains of life
lest your sister-roommate suspects

As you went about
the business of the day
you face the world with a Mona Lisa smile
more than a perfect cover
an enigmatic façade
of a young beauteous professional
concealing the scarred and confused heart
lest those green-eyed officemates find out.

But your grief is a story
an attentive ear can hear.
It is a song a loving heart can echo
or a picture a caring hand can paint.
Your sad eyes
Tell me that it is indeed darkness
But isn’t it that in darkest night
where stars shine most brightly?