Birds Fly

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Three years ago, while recovering from leg fracture, I wrote this reflection....

Friday afternoon, I was waiting for my neighbor to pick me up at school. I still cannot walk right from a fracture I had so somebody would have to fetch me at school every day. So I was waiting for him, seated alone on a bench, and it was past five in the afternoon, when I noticed a flock of birds perched on the transmission line. It was a large group, maybe a hundred or more. Locally known as “lansang”, they were singing (or should I say making noise). It rained hard earlier that afternoon, and the wet grass, the smell of drenched soil and the song of birds were creating a pastoral atmosphere. It was peaceful, and so I sat there waiting, watching the birds. Watching the birds, oblivious to time and to the electricity, made me think of my own life and others as well. Life and time are two inseparable things.

A Lighted Candle

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Almost five years ago, a year after my father's death, I wrote this sad recollection....

As noisy as it had been, the house is now peaceful. Friends and relatives who came to commemorate with us my father’s first death anniversary had now left. And as lonely as the stillness that enveloped our home are my father’s memories, which a few hours ago, we joyfully shared.

Alone: A Sad Past

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.... Continued from Alone: A New Friend

“You’re special,” the mistress of the House had said the first time he came. “Don’t fear. We will help you. We’ll give you all the joy and love and goodness in this world.”

Young Elias, clod in rags, with eyes swollen and bruises all over his tiny body, had been frightened of the fat lovely woman, of the friendly children around him, of the enormous house. Everything had been too horrible. Even in his  bed, his first bed, soft, scented and clean, he had been crying, hearing howls and screams, seeing hands hitting him, tasting blood in his mouth. He flinched from touch; he hated people. Those early days, he had been uncontrollable.

The Road Much Taken

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Nearly two years ago, after a devastating earthquake overwhelmed Japan, I wrote this short reflection....

For more than eight years now, I have been traveling through this road on my way to the office. For this morning, and even for the past mornings, I found it hard to maneuver my motorcycle through this road. The path is really sandy, and along the way, there are humps and holes.

For the Last Time

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Heart-broken and devastated, I wrote this piece three years ago.....

When we love, we give others the power to break us. Even though they don’t want to…

I met her months ago, when the leaves of late September danced to the afternoon breeze. She was so shy to me back then, would hardly smile nor converse. She is beautiful. But her liveliness, her honesty, and her timid gentleness were what attracted me. And the days went by so quickly. I thought the angels wrote the best story for us. Instead, they played tricks.

Now

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Now I feel the most profound pain

As the afternoon colors fade and dim

My heart aches a loss, a regret,

Melted by the sun’s gentle warmth

Into the horizon, it sinks.

Now I see the flowers wither

In the soft earth where they always flourished;

The rose pressed between my palms

Had dried, brittle, suddenly blown

Into somebody else’s palms.