guerdon’s rest

ah, so you have found this place.
welcome.
take a seat, don’t be shy.
sorry if all i can offer are boulders and gravel.
but the view here is magnificent.
it was a long climb to get here, you must be tired.
my own feet are still chapped and bleeding,
but it was worth it.
i don’t mind the company,
such a view as this is better shared;
don’t mind my feet,
they will heal.
see the setting sun,
how it turns more golden as it drops;
the sea from here is visible, too,
like a silken sheet rippling with the wind,
and the wispy clouds like thin curtains
slashed by sunbursts
are majestic to see, as well.
yes, i know,
it took my breath away, too,
the first i saw it,
all the pain was washed away in that single instant.
and feel that breeze?
later on, it will gust for a while,
scattering the leaves of that single molave tree,
but it will cradle you asleep in the evenings,
like a lullabye,
and the rocks provide enough warmth and shade
in the nights;
the moon is bright here, and the stars,
and many times i lie awake
just counting the streaks of light,
racing them with my wishes,
and so far, i have managed to complete one.
you want to know what it was i wished for?
you make me smile;
what led you here, anyway,
if not my footprints tracked in blood?
look,
the evening is coming,
see how the colors race against each other.
i love how the last rays of the sun
shoot out like spears trying to conquer
the inevitable victory of moon and stars.
yes, it is quiet here,
except for the music of the wind,
and the faraway screech of a lone hawk,
and sometimes a sparrow or two.
hmm…?
oh, i’ve been here several lifetimes;
yes, raise your eyebrows if you wish.
i am glad you made it here at last,
by the way,
have i told you?
did you know i came here to be alone?
but i have found out,
it gets lonely sometimes,
being alone,
even among the splendor of beauty
and the universe unfolding above you,
it is always better to know beauty
and have someone to share it with…

and after a while you wish for it….

welcome,
i am glad you chose to visit me,
you may stay, if you like.

despair

this is the era that i live in:
technology threatening to swallow lives,
toys finding and discovering a life of their own,
and the intellect finding newer ways to be lazy.

we have such vast amounts of knowledge,
and the more intelligent we become,
the more we realize that such plethora
of wisdom could find storage in a mere chip
no larger than thumbnails,
a universe ensconced in sand!

we have invented a million things
to serve each illusionary need,
convincing ourselves that we must, we must!
have that newest gizmo to fulfil the void
that never existed before we imagined it.

we have reached the moon, walked upon it,
sent our sights and our probes into the depths
of that vast immeasurable coldness of space,
trying to prove that truly, the gods do not exist,
and that we are the highest, the apex of evolution.

we have argued and discussed and considered,
debated and analyzed in the halls of academia,
concepts and questions and ideas –
who should rule, and why, and who we are,
and why, and really, what happened, and why…
and we play with the unbound sets of semantics,
covering our ignorance with a newer wave of words
that confuse the most ignorant, and making them
believe in our self-perceived ascendance;

we invent titles, and degrees, and gradations,
complicating everything, discombobulating each
simple idea, because of course, it cannot be
seriously regarded unless richly garbed
in the mantles of mumbled mysticism.

we have proved mightier than prometheus
in unlocking fire, not from the gods,
but from the smallest enclosures, those strongest
bastions of asymptotic freedoms — we knocked,
and the atoms obeyed our summons,
displaying their might upon our biddings,
and now we are most afraid of these
invisible units of creation, and what spells
might be cast from such evokers’ wills;

we have perfected war, made it an art,
and even in the most advanced cities,
we wage them, if not with bombs and guns,
knife and poison will serve,
or money and influence, or political promises…
what are lives, anyway, but capital
for spending, for profit, for protection.

we have learned how to squeeze out of the idealistic souls
the spark that gave them hope that tomorrow will be better;
bombarding them with false needs and false dreams,
they begin like uncut gems, holding a brilliance
they are eager to show forth; but we do not polish them,
instead we crush them, or lull them to dullness,
and all their “why’s” become “why bother” in the end.

i see it everyday.

i walked from the house to the store today,
passing by teenagers engrossed with each other,
young men and women outside school,
dancing the preliminaries that would end,
inevitably, to single parenthood,
and there was a couple shouting at each other across the street,
never mind who was watching,
and a young professional hurrying off to office,
blind to anything else but the time and the job and the pay;

at the store i bought poison,
the sweetened caffeine-rich acid
to burn my kidneys and gut,
and i drank the whole liter: alone, oblivious.

this is the era that i live in,
this is the era of desperation,
this is the age of indifference.
welcome, child,
this is what you will inherit from us.

spare time

minutes:
instead of dying
their natural death
under langolier breath,
they are translated,
immortalized,
and die no more…
celestialized
with thoughts of you.

A Belated Christmas Greeting

So you made it to December. What a year it has been. There are thanks to be given, and a whole lot of other things to look at with hindsight that more often serves us with a bit too much dose of regrets than we intended in the first place.

So what has it been for me? 2009 began with me never giving things as much thought as I should have. “Things.” Such a word, such a word. And now the year has come and passed.

But really, who ever thought that the year would unfold as it had?

Regrets: I have too much of that to dwell upon them.

Rejoicings: There are enough to color the world for me. On these, I guess I should dwell upon.

First, on my work. I began teaching in UP Manila last 2007, November. Teaching here has been a fulfillment of a dream of mine, to teach in UP. I haven’t really thanked the people who gave me a chance to do so. Let me take this time to do so. The PGU people and the DPSM will always be a special part of my professional life. Thanks for taking a chance on me. I hope I have not caused too much of a headache with my aloofness and silence. I was simply too intimidated working with you all.

Second, to my students. I think the most important thing you will realize as you grow older is that your teachers simply did their best with the situations they were handed with. If you were frustrated at times with how we handled the courses we taught, remember that we too are frustrated with our own failiures. And as you were delighted with a few of the lessons that resonated so much with you, remember that we too share with that joy of discovery, seeing you take flight with the ideas we wanted so much to share. There are times I would like to take back, and days i wanted to last forever. I learned so much from you as I worked with you, and as you realize that you can reach higher heights than I ever did, I hope you realize as well that we never resent this. In fact, the student should always strive to beome better than the mentor. It is through this that konwledge grows, that progress is made. And better minds take over the world that we leave behind. Thanks for the lessons learned, the friendships forged, the journey shared, even if it was only a few months. Keep reaching for the stars.

Third, to my friends. Friends. What a word it is. Some of you I only see very rarely. A few of you I get to see more often than flies. (Incidentally, I have been interacting with flies quite rarely the past few years… global warming effect?) But I am always grateful for each and everyone of you. Thanks for choosing to share those few steps with me on this cliche of a journey they call life. Well, I call it life too. But you know what? I think the most fascinating about it is that when we do get to meet, however rarely it is, somehow, it’s like it was only yesterday that we last saw each other. Oh, I understand that I too have lost a few friends along the way. And gained a few more as well. It’s quite hard, sometimes, to let go of friends. I always want to bring them back. Some have become strangers; I have learned not to resent this. Time sometimes is a distance more difficult to bridge than miles. But please remember that I owe a lot of who I am because of you, and for that, I will always be thankful. I think I can stand in front of the Author of this Universe and not be ashamed to name you as my friends. I hope that someday I too can earn the same from you. It’s still a work in progress, I have to say. But if you wait long enough, I promise to shine, scars and all.

Fourth, to my family. I am always glad to be part of this family of ours. So much has happened the past few years, but if there’s one thing that I learned as the years roll on, is that how great a family I have blessed with. Oh, we are not perfect, but there’s something unique in how we support each other. To my aunts and uncles, thanks for those times. Thanks for the examples you set for us. To my cousins, I hope as you grow older you will come to appreciate being part of this faily as much as we have. I cannot imagine being born to another family. Well, honestly, I can. But i would never choose to be born into another, given that chance. It just would not be the same. I would not exchange this adventure for another. I hope I can also make you proud.

So on this holiday season, let me give my greetings as well, however late this is. I could not do it throught text, it’s too long to do so.

But let me do so by telling you how I feel about the season. As a scientist, I have grown to realize that faith is as much part of science as objectivity. That there are things in this universe only faith can prove, I know for a fact. Sometimes, it becomes a debate over trivialities. I have never seen an electron, but I know it exists. Nor have I seen any of the subatomic particles. Only the traces that they leave behind that tell us that they do exist. I find I do not have the mathematical aptitude to prove every mathematical and physical equations. But I read the accounts of those who do, the books and articles left behind by those who did. And I know that if I work and study long enough, following their footsteps, that i too will someday gain enough skill to prove them on my own. But for now, I can take their word for the things I have no capability to do on my own. Truth is truth, whether we can satisfy their veracity on our own or we have to rely on others. And we can feel the satisfaction upon learning them because it will resonate with us, because it works. “I know the mathematics is correct, because when I use them, I get the predicted results.” Thus once said one of the geniuses of the 20th century. As with science, so I also say regarding faith.

I know that what the carols sing about actually happened. I was not there to see it for myself. None of us who were born in our time did. But because it happened, we commemorate it. We commemorate it because of the promise that that event gives to those who believe. But more than that, we commemorate it because it is true. Somebody WAS sent down to be born in the lowliest circustances so HE can rise above all things. And He was sent because nobody else can do that which He must do to open the gate that is shut to everyone. The gate to life. Life. Some would contend that it is too preposterous to be true. I counter that just beause I cannot prove it does not necessarily mean nobody can. I believe because I can feel its truth when I read the acounts of those who know. And someday, if I keep studying and learning, I too can know it for myself.

That for me is the reason that we say Merry Christmas. Merry … Happy… Joyful.

So… Merry Christmas, everyone! And a Happy New Year to all.

the winds die down

the crickets take their cue from the twilight,
scratching their sides in excited chatter,
they welcome the night with songs they exude
not from their throats,
but close to their invertebrate hearts,
and they shatter the stillness
of the blanket that swallows the world
when the winds die down.

the stars take their cue from the evening,
blinking their gazelessness at the sight,
they bathe the restful with the silent promise
of sleep and dreams,
replete with its weakening resistance,
and they summon the lovers to a banquet
of sultry promises and delight and consummation
when the winds die down.

the moon takes her cue from the dreamer,
arranging her face in voiceless dedication,
she lets her gossamer hair down in cascades
that fall like feathers,
she dances the slowest of waltzes,
and in her wake begets longings and desires
that awaken and come alive
only in the sunlessness
of when the winds die down.

upheavals

once upon a time,
the atog lived,
feeding on thoughts,
feasting on memories.

he was the wizard’s pet,
the sorcerer’s sagacity;
they took care of him,
and the atog was not choosy:
facts, or fiction,
it was the same to him,
patient he was,
standing still, waiting
in deep analysis,
in concentration,
for his time to pounce.

one stroke only,
a single upheaval
to cleanse the clutter,
was what it needed…

to shoot the stars.

should

there is your smile,
plastered like a stain
upon the sky.

to see it,
all i need do
is just look up.

but looking up
hurts more than many wounds.

and so by choice,
i go about each day
looking at pavements,
avoiding puddles,
bearing this unbearable…

because you are now happy,
and i should be
letting you go.

miracles

miracles still happen, and they continue:
indigo tears still flow from scarlet eyes,
coursing down aquamarine cheeks,
heaven’s halcyon hello in staccato sighs,
endless in their empirical beauty,
lingering long in the laughters of leaves,
lighting the world, weaving its wonders,
etched in the timelessness of transience.

transcendence is the how of miracles,
umbilical strings matching mountains with mustard seeds,
mists of maybe melting into obelisks of is,
annihilus of nil; the becoming is the path,
negating the former, ascending new heights,
eternal progression at work. such are miracles:
nexus of all possibles. they happen still, and why not?
godhood is the summative design of faith.

—
written way back in laoag, maybe september-october 2000.

what keeps me dreaming

that the rainbow actually is,
because my eyes behold it.

that the stars at night really are,
because i see them.

that the clouds swirl and tumble in the sky,
and the breeze.

they are,
but they are not what keeps me.

i see a rainbow, but no,
i see a pot of gold waiting for me!
i see a star, but no;
i see a wish come true!
i see the clouds, but no;
i see me free, i see joy!

because
what keeps me dreaming
is that each melody
beckoning me,
is your voice,
each syllable smiling in celestial promise.

eight hours, and five seconds

i only wanted
to pay obeisance to a life
well-lived,
well-fought,
and well-loved.

the afternoon sun beckoned,
and time was no regard for me.
and so i went…

the ancient fortress welcomed me,
and the quiet roads winded along,
inevitably bringing me
to the heart of the fortress,
this cathedral of renown,
where the heroine rested,
waiting for the countless gratitude
of the people she served.

i joined the winding queue,
curiously weaving
like a tail
coiling and coiling around itself,
until we finally found its end.

i looked at my watch, and saw the time.
five of the clock, it said,
as i settled down to wait.

i thought, two, maybe three hours,
and i shall see her, pay my respects.

but the first hour saw us emerge
around the first bend,
as the clouds finally decided
to pour its own libations
upon the throng,

another hour brought us
to the next turning,
the streets beginning
to flood,
and many simply giving up the wait.

i thought, two hours…
can i possibly wait another two?
but the third hour brought me
an unwelcome realization:
that even as we were lining up
to pay our respects,
there were souls who cared less,
and sought to find
a shorter way to her
than honesty proferred to them.

and so the third hour ended
with the single line now two,
and even as tempers grew short,
still nobility shone,
as gates were opened
that should have been closed,
allowing relief for those who needed it,
and i, i found new friends
among the ones who bracketed me
front and back, left and right.

rain and damp were our constant companions,
as darkness swallowed the day,
and a starless sky loomed above us,
mourning, as it seemed, with this nation
bereft of another noble soul.

we kept the faith, the vigil, and the walk.

the fourth hour ended,
and i finally gave in
to the pleadings of aching knees,
as i crouched, not alone,
to rest my feet a little,
even as my umbrella, embarrassed,
tried vainly to fend off
the offending rain.

a single boiled egg
and one balut
sustained me through the hour.

the fifth hour saw us surging,
as one enlivened crowd,
pushed on
by a sudden downpour
and the unsought wind,
as the typhoon finally arrived.

we hugged the walls, squeezing
to find purchase
under the meagre shade of eaves.

but we kept on.
even as more people kept arriving,
even as more were hammered to submission.

but a group of old women,
shamed my soul to staying,
as i almost gave up.
if they can wait, my will insisted,
who was i to prove myself a craven
to the elements?
my body wept,
my heart quailed,
but smiling, i obeyed my will.

an hour before midnight,
and we were there,
the final bend crossed,
the final stretch attained.

by this time,
nobody could move.
we were trapped
by each other’s conviction;
but more convincingly,
by each other’s umbrellas.

we flowed as one.
one trembling meter at a time.

midnight saw us,
standing in stinking floodwaters.
the storm alternately raging above us,
or giving us reprieve of a few moments.
but none of us were spared.
by this time none of us were dry,
umbrella or not.
and all of us were ankle-deep
in fetid waters,
while only moving
a few agonizing inches
at a time.

until, at last!
the final gate beckoned,
and from the crowd,
i was paired to an elderly man
to approach the stoic cathedral,
in those last few stiled meters.
he asked me how long
i have been there,
and i said almost eight hours.

i asked the same question,
and he snorted his reply.
“i arrived after midnight,
and simply inserted myself
into the throng.”
i almost dinged his ear,
had i not remembered
why i was there.

and as we slowly entered
the portals of the place,
a reverence enfolded me,
an awe
that took away
the whole eight hours of pain,

and i approached the casket
in a daze,
hurried along by ushers,
and i stopped before her and looked,
but i could not stay
longer than five seconds
to gaze upon her,
she whom i have never seen before
in life.

but five seconds are too short,
to fully encompass
the jumbled feelings of my heart,
and all i managed, finally,
was a nod,
and i moved on,
shaking the hands
of her eldest daughter…

leaving the cathedral,
i laid my final oblation…

eight hours i gave
to see her for five seconds.

she gave her husband,
and her life remaining
in exchange.

Golgotha

the place
they call the skull
resound
with haunting ghosts
that scream
the pain of years…

the rhythm
that has been bane
of the courage
of hardened men,
one final time again
pounds the universal
sacrifice,
pins the hands
than healed,
to that wooden embrace,
consummating
the mortal mission
of the Son of Man….