Ars Crematoria

Habang binibendisyunan ng pari ang iyong katawan
at aking kalamnan, nagising ang kalooban
dahil ang tubig - na naglulan sa 'yo sa sinapupunan
at naghatid sa 'yo sa pananampalataya -
ang siya ring tubig na ngayo'y tatangay
sa 'yo sa huling hantungan;
at ang mga iyak na sumalubong sa 'yo
sa magulong mundong ito
ang siya ring mga iyak na umaawit ng punebre
sa huling araw mo;
at ang init ng laman na noo'y nagpuyos
at nagbunga sa pagka-tao mo
ang siya ring init ng apoy na lumalamon sa 'yo.
Naisip ko tuloy bigla
ang buhay parang tula:
iisa ang dulo,
iisa ang simula.

- written after the cremation of a grandparent (in 1999?)

Epilogue

Dumating ang bagyo
ng yelo at bato.
Ang kawawang Pedro
tinamaan sa ulo,
naglabas ng tabo't
hinarap ang bagyo,
sinalok ang berso't
isinubo ito.

Ang lahat sa buhay
nagbago.
Ngayon,
nakapagluwal na ako.

- written in 2000 for a book that was never published

Elixir

Be for me, sacred tea, an elixir of death
bid thy elements turn potent against me
drown me with your poisons that I may
taste sweet death; rage 'til my veins burst
stir a tempest within, a storm brew
to destroy this vessel with desire consumed
a fire set ablaze to raze my soul, torch my spirit
'til I am no more than dust for I lust for death
and rest. Then, bitter potion, sweet, sweet poison
summon the healer in you to conjure a cure
a concoction pure to rouse me from my savage death
call upon my spirit and let your venom sting no more
then let death from you bring life anew.

- written some time in 1999

Last Trip

Drenched, I waited
for the train to arrive
to take me to
the outskirts of sanity.
'Twas Saturday
and the station was
deserted and quiet
'cept for the pounding
rain on pavement.
I clenched the one-way
ticket and slid it
into my pocket
to shield it from
the downpour of
two lifetimes ago.
I've forgotten how
rain felt on my skin -
pale now from the constant
patter, devoid of color
and life.
From the distance
it came announcing
its presence with the muffled
blow of horn and the blind
searching of headlights
through mist. Alas,
here is my ride
hovering over
rusted rails and wet earth.
I waved to welcome
salvation but the driver
didn't see the glint
of happiness in my eyes
and the sadness
of my goodbye.
I thought of her
one last time as I
made my way
down the overhang
with the ticket
still in my pocket -
a farewell letter:

Goodbye life
please tell her
I love her.

- written some time in 2000 for Cynthia

Indian Summer

Melancholic utterances
bleed from the cracks,
the crevices, flooding
barren earth with tears
silver in the fluorescent
light of bulbous moon.
We have come to an impasse,
an end inevitable.
As the rain seeps,
we weep for the choleric
melancholic
beauty of a dying,
unnurtured love.

- written March 25, 2002

Slow Dance

You looked up at me with eyes that
mirrored the painful reality of the present.
There were tears of bitterness
waiting to fall and I was there with you
waiting to catch them with words.
We were locked in a dance and your eyes
spoke of a time when we were deeply in love
and fighting a future that neither of us
could see nor feel. When the first tear fell,
the pain in my chest became most unbearable.
I could not keep in step to the music.
It was the first song of the evening but we knew
it was the anthem of an ending long overdue.
How, then, do we dance to the music that
leads us further to the end? How do we dance
the slow dance of the inevitable goodbye?

- written some time in 2000 for Cynthia