We take a walk tonight in this new park in the city, the newly manicured lawn and the Christmas lights hanging from the tree branches the perfect backdrop to our story—a common story, a cliché actually, of unexpressed emotions and an understanding unspoken of, the December breeze gently blowing a reluctant witness to the plot unfolding between us.
I often wondered as a child why there are fireworks in the sky when couples kiss in a movie as if love is enough to banish the darkness of the night. If I kiss you tonight, could we brighten the heavens, too?
You refuse to hold my hand. Your eyes speak the words your lips refuse to say. You try to hide the suffering and a kiss won’t be enough to banish it. You have loved and failed, loved and failed, and scars remain.
So, here we are, standing at the bus station, waiting. I try to hold your hand, to touch you to ease your pain. Yet, you refuse again. I kiss you on the lips, your scars remain. A kiss won’t be enough to banish them.
My bus arrives. Should I stay or should I go? I turn to you and smile, and you say goodbye.
Showing posts with label goodbye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goodbye. Show all posts
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
A Poem for the Eagle's Star
The rainy afternoon made me remember this poem. I wrote it in April this year and the edited version became part of the 28th edition (May) of the Poet's Picturebook--an ezine of photography, essays, and poems.
What the Rain Brings
The sky is downcast again today. At seven in the morning, a gray presence was looming over the city. There’s news of rain, of a storm actually…a storm in May, in summer. Isn’t it odd? Do you know that I remember you when it rains?
You crossed my mind when I looked at the gray sky today, when I stepped out of my house expecting to be greeted by the summer heat, but instead, there was the gloomy presence of the still air. Then, I caught myself: I have said goodbye, I should stop remembering you when it rains.
June is just within reach. I can already hear its sound—the start of the season of rain. I don’t want to think of you whenever it rains in June, or in July. I have said goodbye.
But, maybe, I need the rain. I need the rain not to remind me of you but to wash away every memory that I still have of you, to wash away even the littlest trace you still have in my mind and in my heart.
Today, I felt fear when I realized that the rain still reminds me of you. And I can’t go on feeling afraid of the rain just because it reminds me of you, because I need the rain, I have been asking for rain in this warm, sticky summer season. And the rain came, and the memories of you came…and I was afraid…but if the rain will wash you away from my being, then I will welcome it even more, even the monsoon season.
What the Rain Brings
The sky is downcast again today. At seven in the morning, a gray presence was looming over the city. There’s news of rain, of a storm actually…a storm in May, in summer. Isn’t it odd? Do you know that I remember you when it rains?
You crossed my mind when I looked at the gray sky today, when I stepped out of my house expecting to be greeted by the summer heat, but instead, there was the gloomy presence of the still air. Then, I caught myself: I have said goodbye, I should stop remembering you when it rains.
June is just within reach. I can already hear its sound—the start of the season of rain. I don’t want to think of you whenever it rains in June, or in July. I have said goodbye.
But, maybe, I need the rain. I need the rain not to remind me of you but to wash away every memory that I still have of you, to wash away even the littlest trace you still have in my mind and in my heart.
Today, I felt fear when I realized that the rain still reminds me of you. And I can’t go on feeling afraid of the rain just because it reminds me of you, because I need the rain, I have been asking for rain in this warm, sticky summer season. And the rain came, and the memories of you came…and I was afraid…but if the rain will wash you away from my being, then I will welcome it even more, even the monsoon season.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Hello, Goodbye, Katipunan.
I went to the Katipunan area today. I went to a place on Dela Rosa Street to be exact. A familiar area yet it wasn’t the kind of familiarity that gave me comfort; it was the kind of familiarity that gave me discomfort.
I parked at a spot away from the building I was going to. I parked away from the view of the guard of someone’s condominium building, afraid that he might again mouth someone’s name when he sees me. “No, manong, I am not here for him. Duty calls that’s why I am here so banish that sly smile I see through you,” I thought, imagining a conversation with the guard. One time I was in the area, it was unnerving how the guard still related me to someone like I could never have another reason for being in the area but him.
Inside the studio, the place on Dela Rosa Street I went to, I stayed in my little corner and pushed the thoughts of someone away from my mind. I had buried my dead and there was no use resurrecting it. No, let me correct that, there was no death; just an ending, a chapter that I had to close on my own. Death is morbid. Closing a chapter is gentler, kinder. I am now writing a new chapter.
As I was leaving the place, I thought that my life has been having a lot of fleeting presences lately. Several people just seem to be passing by and I guess, in a way, I have come to accept that some people are just meant to be passersby in my life. No use asking them to stay if there is no reason to or if they don’t want to.
I had been going out with someone recently. At some point, I realized he wasn’t meant to stay as he had been wont to do in the three years I had known him. After the third date, I said goodbye.
As the sun set on Katipunan Avenue today, I found myself seated across a smart and funny person, exchanging stories about a common past. When it was time to say goodbye and leave the place, I knew that it would be our first and last personal conversation. I also told a girl why I was fidgety inside the studio and she told me she would take care of me. I didn’t doubt her sincerity but I knew it wasn’t a “friendship” that was meant to last a lifetime.
I have learned that I don’t have the gift of goodbye. The few goodbyes I’ve had at the end of a relationship were of teleserye proportions. But I think I have the gift of knowing which people in my life will stay and which ones will just come and go…fleeting presences…people just passing by (although, I sometimes had tried to make them stay…and failed).
As I was leaving the area, I saw that the light in someone’s condominium unit was on. Was he there? Should I have resurrected the dead? No…Should I have reopened a chapter and erased everything I had written since I had closed it? I decided to speed away.
Today, I was just a fleeting presence on Dela Rosa Street. If only it could speak, Fabian dela Rosa (the street) would have told me, “Mar, you’re just a passerby here. You don’t belong here.” And I would have answered, “Yes, I don’t belong here. I never belonged here,” and whisper to myself, “although I once thought of staying, of being a constant in this place, not merely a transient visitor.”
I thought I had said goodbye to Katipunan. But I learned that I couldn’t say goodbye. Just as there will be many other fleeting presences in my life, I will again be a passerby in the area on March 14, I suppose, when I would again park at a spot, wait for someone, then later speed away…and on many other days after that.
I parked at a spot away from the building I was going to. I parked away from the view of the guard of someone’s condominium building, afraid that he might again mouth someone’s name when he sees me. “No, manong, I am not here for him. Duty calls that’s why I am here so banish that sly smile I see through you,” I thought, imagining a conversation with the guard. One time I was in the area, it was unnerving how the guard still related me to someone like I could never have another reason for being in the area but him.
Inside the studio, the place on Dela Rosa Street I went to, I stayed in my little corner and pushed the thoughts of someone away from my mind. I had buried my dead and there was no use resurrecting it. No, let me correct that, there was no death; just an ending, a chapter that I had to close on my own. Death is morbid. Closing a chapter is gentler, kinder. I am now writing a new chapter.
As I was leaving the place, I thought that my life has been having a lot of fleeting presences lately. Several people just seem to be passing by and I guess, in a way, I have come to accept that some people are just meant to be passersby in my life. No use asking them to stay if there is no reason to or if they don’t want to.
I had been going out with someone recently. At some point, I realized he wasn’t meant to stay as he had been wont to do in the three years I had known him. After the third date, I said goodbye.
As the sun set on Katipunan Avenue today, I found myself seated across a smart and funny person, exchanging stories about a common past. When it was time to say goodbye and leave the place, I knew that it would be our first and last personal conversation. I also told a girl why I was fidgety inside the studio and she told me she would take care of me. I didn’t doubt her sincerity but I knew it wasn’t a “friendship” that was meant to last a lifetime.
I have learned that I don’t have the gift of goodbye. The few goodbyes I’ve had at the end of a relationship were of teleserye proportions. But I think I have the gift of knowing which people in my life will stay and which ones will just come and go…fleeting presences…people just passing by (although, I sometimes had tried to make them stay…and failed).
As I was leaving the area, I saw that the light in someone’s condominium unit was on. Was he there? Should I have resurrected the dead? No…Should I have reopened a chapter and erased everything I had written since I had closed it? I decided to speed away.
Today, I was just a fleeting presence on Dela Rosa Street. If only it could speak, Fabian dela Rosa (the street) would have told me, “Mar, you’re just a passerby here. You don’t belong here.” And I would have answered, “Yes, I don’t belong here. I never belonged here,” and whisper to myself, “although I once thought of staying, of being a constant in this place, not merely a transient visitor.”
I thought I had said goodbye to Katipunan. But I learned that I couldn’t say goodbye. Just as there will be many other fleeting presences in my life, I will again be a passerby in the area on March 14, I suppose, when I would again park at a spot, wait for someone, then later speed away…and on many other days after that.
Timelines
For P.
Six months, sixteen days. My eyes are lined and my lips are glossed, my face is luminously aglow. It is a familiar drive down Katipunan Avenue. The sights and sounds haven’t changed, not much, but I know I have and so have you.
There is a familiar knot in my gut as I look back to the fifteen months past when I was yours and you were mine, though now I ask, was I totally yours and were you ever mine?
Fifteen months. I built castles in the air and thought you would make them come true, but songs were never sung and promises were never kept and the castles vanished into thin air.
Tonight, where the eagle met the star, I thought a smile would give them light. Not much was said, no goodbyes, just a “thank you” and a smile that never brought back the light. And when the eagle descended from the star, I heard her heart say goodbye.
Six months, sixteen days. My eyes are lined and my lips are glossed, my face is luminously aglow. It is a familiar drive away from Katipunan Avenue. I wave to the wind and say goodbye.
January 30, 2009
Six months, sixteen days. My eyes are lined and my lips are glossed, my face is luminously aglow. It is a familiar drive down Katipunan Avenue. The sights and sounds haven’t changed, not much, but I know I have and so have you.
There is a familiar knot in my gut as I look back to the fifteen months past when I was yours and you were mine, though now I ask, was I totally yours and were you ever mine?
Fifteen months. I built castles in the air and thought you would make them come true, but songs were never sung and promises were never kept and the castles vanished into thin air.
Tonight, where the eagle met the star, I thought a smile would give them light. Not much was said, no goodbyes, just a “thank you” and a smile that never brought back the light. And when the eagle descended from the star, I heard her heart say goodbye.
Six months, sixteen days. My eyes are lined and my lips are glossed, my face is luminously aglow. It is a familiar drive away from Katipunan Avenue. I wave to the wind and say goodbye.
January 30, 2009
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