RIVER OF UNREMEMBERING

Where would you go after you close your eyes to sleep tonight?
Is there a river out there
Grasses that never dry up
And dew that hangs on to every blade
Longer than a day?

Will you ask me to come and tiptoe with you in that quietness?
And bring my guitar there
To sing to the waters
That never dry up
So I can send all my questions away
With the current
Of that river
of unremembering?

DIAMONDS IN SECOND-HAND FINDS

Books. They brought me to corners of this world, much more to varied dimensions only pages, whether brown or crisp, can let fly a soul like mine. Needless to say, the intoxication is much deeper than time permits in devouring fiction or real worlds. The ride is unending. This experience is one I'd like another soul, younger than my reading years, to take on as well.

At this juncture, I'm beginning to see some eye-popping signs of Shekinah joining this addiction. I started to introduce books, booklets, and anything with pictures, colors, and words to her when she was 4 or 5 months. At 1 year and 3 months, she's not letting go of any book her hand could grab, even if at funny times, she gets to pull out what her tiny little hands could, from our shelves research books only teachers could appreciate.

Now, remembering those times when I lingered at second-hand bookstores unearthing dusty, crumpled books and bringing them home as though they're worth the African diamond's prize, makes me say it was all worth my allowances and splurges. The shelves will not be a lonely library of sort. There will be an addition to the club--not to mention, that my siblings have long gotten into browsing and enjoying some of the journeys stacked in the shelves all these years.

Ahh, those treasures! They might not last long. The pages may disintigrate with time. But not until my daughter gets to taste them all as well.

COLORS IN KINY'S EYES

I tried so hard to blink back the tears that are now quite pesky, wanting to make themselves known to the public. Ahh, the jump in the heart that only a daughter could give. It makes me go cheesy over any trivial matters that would link to my tiny angel.

Two days back, turning 1 year and 14 weeks, Kiny has identified at least three colors after having studied her Brainy Baby video for 2 weeks now. At this rate, being a one-year old tot, such is a big pleasant achievement. And for a proud mommy in me, milestones like this is sweeter than a thousand Cum Laude medals I didn't expect in my college graduation day. Flabbergasted, I couldn't believe my ears. But my brother who stayed with her practically every minute of the eight hours I'm away for work, announced it to me when I came home.

With this, I feel more obliged to watch her and see to it she gets the right education--one that is Biblically sound and humane.

I do not trust the media these days. It remains a strong and powerful foe to the parents when it comes to leading their kids to appropriate education. It's tougher to be a parent these days let alone working in a third world society. It's not enough to be vigilant. It's a warrior's cry for a mother to protect the young world of her toddler. TV has conquered homes including ours at a rate that any technology creation has yet to achieve. It has made loots out of the once promising brains and geniuses among children and, come to think of it, even grown-ups! Haven't we noticed, one seldom hears of any Albert Einsteins or Beethovens in the news these days? My guess, you find these guys in front of the boob tube or in computer junctions or what have you.

The world is not safe, yes. But amidst all these noises and technological lures,I still believe there's a powerful Father upstairs who enables all the mothers and fathers to fend and shelter the young ones who shall build a better world, hopefully, soon.

TUKTOK

Pila ba ka nagpitok-pitok nga bitoon
Ang imong gisabwag sa aping nianang langit?
Asa kaha sila paingon kung mapupos na ang ilang panahon
Sa kawanangan?


Apan sama nga sayod ka kung pila na ka gatosan nga mga bitoon
Ang nangapulpog ug nahanaw sa usa lamang ka pagpamilok
Sayod ako nga inihap mo ang kada lugas sa nagkadyutay kong mga buhok.


Sayod usab ako nga inig piyong sa akong mga mata unya
Mukayab ang akong galamhan didto sa kapunaw-punawan
Lagbas sa mga kabitoonan
Musuway sa makausa sa pagtuktok sa imong ganghaan


Maghulat sa imong tingog
Maghulat sa tanang tubag
Sa tanang hubad sa tanghaga
Sa imong puangod.

MGA UHAY SA BULAK SA KANDING-KANDING

Sa mga sagbot, kanding-kanding, ug kipi-kipi
Luyo nianang tugkaran
Mamauli kita.
Didto
Diin gawasnon kitang magtiniil,
Pistahan nato pag-usab
Ang mga amorsiko.
Lukpon ta niini
Ang mga sidsid
Sa atong mga kagahapon
Unya paambiton ta ang kasamtangan
Ug ang umaabot
Sa makabungog tang hudyaka.

Higdaan nato ang kalunhaw
Sa mga kipi-kipi
Nga maoy ampay nato sa kasagbutan
Hangtud mangapungil ang mga tunok niini.
Kay unya sa imong paggikan pag-usab
Didto sa dapit sa mga niyebe
Pamuniton ko
Sa atong karaang tanaman
Luyo nianang tugkaran
Ang mga biniyaang
Uhay sa mga bulak
Sa kanding-kanding.

PIANG

Mitadlas na usab
Ang imong panan-aw
Sa karaang hulagway.
Giharong sa makausa
Ang mibadhas nga kahugot
Ug kasikit
Nga linambigitay
Nga karon taod-taod nang giagup-op.

Ug sa kalit lang
Milunhat ang imong piang
Sa dughan.

LAMA

Kining mga magasin
Nga nagkatag sa imong lamisa
Kaganiha ko pang gipakli-pakli,
Sa mga pinintalang dagway
Mga bulok
Nanglugwa


Apan kining mga pahina
Taod-taod na diayng gatutok nako
Sa akong paminaw dunay mga kumo
Nga nagpahipi, nanukad,
Gapunting
Sa gatanga kong apapangig.

Samtang mao ra'y akong namatikdan
Mga lama
Sa akong kuko ug tudlo
Nanglakra
Sa matag pahina
Nga nagsinaw—
Nataran sa imong kalipay.

SA IMONG BARUTONG PAPEL

(sa akong gamay nga magbaruto)

Pasakya ko, anak
Sa imong barutong papel.
Mukuyog ko
Sa pagsugat
nianang bul-og
sa unahan.
Kupti ko
Sa akong pagbarag
Inig sukarap na unya
Sa hangin.
Sa imong pagtugot
Sa layag,
Pasagdi kong mogunit
Sa katig.

Tudloi ko, anak
Sa pagpiyong
Kauban nimo.
Ug didto
Pakit-a ko
Sa mga bulok
Sa kahiladman
Nga way puas
Nimong gisawom.

Padungga ko
Sa uraray sa mga sugilanon
Sa matag suba,
Lapyahan
Ug katubigan.
Ihunghong nako
Kon asa
Ang kinatumyan
Nianang bangaw,
Nga matod mo,
Duna’y mga bulok
Nga hinulaman
Sa imong kinahiladman?

Hain, anak, hain,
Ang kinapusoran
Sa imong dagat?


-- GINA MANTUA-PANES

MY SCARLET LETTERS

(to my mentor nanay moling, all these years)

My scarlet letters
You have unwritten,
And gave my vestment colors anew
Paler than the whitewashed
Stones and sands
That niched
These walls—
Walls that once frowned,
Walls that wrote
Those letters
At this chest
That now heaves
An ensemble
Of notes that lilt
Of your years
That held mine
In your arms.

I AM

I am
A wound,
An open gash
That lay
Next
To a dead
Man’s tomb
Waiting,
Wanting
To be
The scar
Next to this
Scratched Earth
Clutching
The crevices
Of your
Pale niche.

COME, GOBLIN, MY GOBLIN

(to my little elf)

Come, little goblin
Let me cup
Your grinning chin
Only your elfin nature
Can make plain
Humor me
With your trots
And banters
Dance to me
At the beat
Of your drums
Let’s tiptoe
To the marshes,
The grassy nook,
And the windy hills.


Be my fiddler
For a day
Tickle
My unease away
At every pluck
Of every string
Of every fill
Let me doze off
To every jazzy strain
Whisk me away
To a small green pasture
Where I lay in a trance
Feeding on every
Hush and wind blows
My world has forgotten
Long time ago.