In August. From Netflix/You Tube. OUTLANDER

 OUTLANDER

Depicts genuine love of family, loyalty to friends and vows, charity for the unfortunate.  Congratulations to the book author Diana Gabaldon, to the production and staff, to the actors/actresses commendable endeavor! Outlander is stunning and educational!  

Teaching Philippine Literature in English | Dr. Gemino Abad

Love After Heaven by Isagani R. Cruz

Love After Heaven, Parts 1 to 5

2015/08/04 FICTION IN PROGRESS ONE COMMENT

I shall but love thee better after death, one book says, but I don’t believe that. I’m dead and I don’t see Julie anywhere around. Of course, another book says that, after death, we neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. Angels, my foot! I don’t have wings. I’m not playing a harp. In fact, I’m exactly as I was the day I died, except I’m not tied to that hospital bed with all those tubes going in and out of my body.

Heaven is grossly overrated. I thought that, when I died, I would experience unimagined happiness, like orgasms that last for decades or food that I can eat without having to go to the bathroom or music that I can listen to without getting tired. Or at least, something really enjoyable. I spent most of my life praying that I would go to heaven, even being sorry for anything that would endanger my life after death. I could have done all those things I was not supposed to do, but I didn’t, because I thought that life was hell, or at least purgatory, and if I had suffered enough on earth, I would not suffer in heaven.

What crap! Heaven is just like earth, only a bit cleaner.

I remember the day I died. They were all around the bed – Julie, my cousin Gerry, my sister Yoly, and four, maybe six doctors all shouting orders to three or four nurses scampering like terrorized schoolchildren in the background.

Code, someone kept shouting.

I looked at them from the ceiling, or actually through the ceiling because I could see in front of me the fluorescent lamp and the fire sprinkler. My body – it looked like my body, even with the grotesque tubes injecting all sorts of colored liquid into it – was jerking with every touch of the defibrillator.

I could see not just the bed where my body was lying, but right beside it, or maybe superimposed on it – I can’t be sure now – my condo apartment in upscale Global City. There were two or three cops there – it’s funny how I can’t seem to count properly here in heaven. They were talking to my two domestic helpers, the cook and the laundry woman. I half-expected Julie to be there, shouting at them to keep their hands off the antique blue porcelain plates, but of course, she was in the hospital room, like the dutiful wife that she wasn’t.

I could also see a room in a seedy motel in downtown Manila. He was there, the asshole, the guy that turned Julie against me. He was with a woman, or maybe a man, or somebody anyway. They were in the shower. He was sitting in some kind of contraption that looked like a trapeze swing. He or she or whatever that shadow was was hovering over him.

Then I found myself, without even a dissolve or a fade-away, here in heaven, sitting in this queue that must have stretched for miles.

Oh, yes, sometime – and here in heaven, time has no meaning, so I can’t really tell if this was long ago or just a minute ago – I went through a tunnel. There was a light at the end, the light that some guy in white was waving at my face to guide me through the darkness. I say it was a guy, but it could have been a woman, or even an animal, or something. Maybe an angel? But whoever or whatever he or she or it was, he or she or it had no wings.

But I knew I was in heaven because, well, it felt good to be here. Peaceful. Calm. With no more pain. Not as good as I thought it would be, but good enough. Better than having all those doctors forcing my body to bounce on the bed. Better than seeing Julie pretending to still be in love with me even when she was already sleeping with that asshole.

Boy, that sucks! That really sucks! Some guy with a long beard comes to me and apologizes that they made a mistake somewhere in the bureaucracy here in heaven. I’m not supposed to be here yet. I’m supposed to suffer some more down there on earth.

Okay, so I got carried away saying that heaven was overrated. Okay, so I used the wordasshole here. But surely those are forgivable misdemeanors. Surely all my efforts at being good on earth were worth something. I thought that the bureaucrats here kept a ledger of my good deeds. Of how patient I was when I found out about Julie and that asshole. Excuse me, that person. Okay, that human being. Surely that counts for something.

I can’t go back to earth. I was the laughing stock of the entire corporation there. Everybody knew about Julie. Except me. Her husband. Her husband of twenty years. Twenty years of being faithful to her. Not even glancing at any other woman. Not even entertaining any thoughts of sleeping with anybody else.

I was a fool, for heaven’s sake.

When I did find out, I did not even confront Julie. I just went to our parish priest and asked him what to do. He said that I had to forgive her. She was a human being, fallen because of original sin. The devil made her do it. He asked if I still loved her, and I had to say yes. I couldn’t lie to him. He was a priest, after all.

I did love her. I still do love her. But I am not sure if that means anything to her. One thing I know, I don’t really want to see her again. When we got married in that grand wedding in that old cathedral, she promised to love me till death do us part. Well, death is a good way to part now. Though she did say, during our first anniversary, that she would love me better after death. She made me memorize that poem, for heaven’s sake. How do I love thee and all that shit.

No, please, do not let me go back. Please, no, let me stay here in heaven. I promise never to badmouth heaven again. Seriously.

Well, it looks like this guy listened to me. He now tells me not to worry. He will send me back, but not to the same body. He will send me back in a different body, as an adult. I do not have to be born again as a baby and wait so long to be as old as I am now. I will be resurrected – I think he used the word reincarnated – as a male, single, mature adult.

Maybe things won’t be so bad, after all. Maybe I will meet Julie again and she won’t meet that asshole again and maybe we can live happily ever after after all. Perhaps even meet here in heaven again. Perhaps.

What? Now, that really sucks! This guy with the beard says I won’t remember my past life at all, except in moments of great stress. How can I find Julie again if I won’t remember that we were once happily married, that I loved her even when she was unfaithful to me, that I want to be with her again? Holy shit!

* * *

Julie cried, as she had to. It was what she was expected to do. She had practised it at home, in front of the mirror. How to cry without ruining her mascara. How to cry like she meant it.

This man had made her life miserable by doing what she never expected him to do. He had ignored her affair.

He had kissed her like he always did when he would come home from work and she was in the kitchen, preparing their dinner. Except that she had not prepared dinner. She had dinner instead with Frankie. And not just dinner. Dessert. Dessert like she never had dessert before with this husband of hers.

But this man kissed her anyway. Did not even ask, never even asked, where she had been. She was sure that he could smell Frankie on her skin. He was not dumb. He was, in fact, very smart, the smartest in his group of business executives. He had not become a millionaire by being dumb.

She knew that he knew, but he never said anything. Just kissed her on the cheek as he did every evening of their married life. Their unexciting, boring, routine married life.

The only excitement – if she could call it that – was the anxiety of not knowing when he would finally let go and slap her, kick her, maybe stab her with that paper cutter he kept on his desk. But he never let his anger show. The guilt she felt was worse than even the ugliest scene she could imagine between him and her.

She could never forgive him for forgiving her her trespasses.

http://isaganicruz.com/2015/08/04/love-after-heaven-parts-1-to-5/

Parable And Truth

PARABLE AND TRUTH – HEBREW

A rabbi, famed for his learning and his wit, once was asked by his students why he so often illustrated a truth by telling a story.

The rabbi taught that could best explain through a story; a parable about Parable itself. 

There was a time when Truth went among men unadorned, as naked as his name.  

And whoever saw Truth turned away, in fear or in shame, and gave him no welcome.

So Truth wandered through the lands of the earth, rebuffed and unwanted.

One day, most disconsolate, he met Parable strolling along happily in fine and many-colored garb.

“Truth, why do you seem so sad?”  asked Parable cheerfully.

“Because I am so old and ugly that all men avoid me,” replied Truth.

“Nonsense.” laughed Parable.  

“That is not why men avoid you.  Here –borrow some of my clothes and see what happens.”

So Truth donned some of Parable’s lovely garments – and lo, everywhere he went he was welcomed.  

The rabbi smiled. 

For the truth is that men cannot face Truth when he is naked; they much prefer him disguised.

/Leo Rosten

Posted by rosevoc2. July 15, 2015

On Theme. Death in the Woods

In fiction, there is always a central idea. Whether it be a poem, a short story, or drama; these are centered on a theme. In most cases, the theme is the generalization about the meaning of the story.

Leo Tolstoy once told a friend:

The most important thing in a work of art is that it should have a kind of focus, like where all the rays meet or from which they issue. And this focus must not be able to be completely explained in works. This indeed is one of the significant facts, about a true work of art - that it's content in its entirety can be expressed only by itself.

Readers interpret texts as they see life. The author writes a human experience in different ways to express an idea that branches into a lot more of profound thoughts.

Death in the Woods by Sherwood Anderson shares a theme about a woman who lives in the woods. And there in the woods, she dies, too.

An ordinary woman in the beginning becomes extraordinary in the end. In fact, the story connotes that she can be more beautiful than the others, "I remember the picture in the forest, the men standing about the naked-girlish looking figure, face down in the snow..."

Anderson, in the story, refers only to "She" as one of the nameless ones who hardly anyone knows. And once in the story calls her name Grimes, who lives with a mean husband and ungrateful son on the bank of a small creek miles away from the town.

Grease, grime and woman where in some instances, become a domestic woman's affiliation. Grime means filth, and being covered with unclean things. The occupation and daily routine of this woman becomes to be feeding the animals in her home, and in the woods. Her sad past life, buries her to chores like getting everything fed.

Falling snow, frozen body in the white snow, and alone dying in the woods make the theme so human but spectacular. The howling dogs could not eat her body, as hyenas would eat a corpse in a full moon. They only bite into the cloth of the old woman keeping the dog-meat. The story says, "I had seen the oval in the snow, like a miniature race-track where the dogs had run, and had seen how the men were simply mystified..."

Life, obviously, brings something true in death, that barren sadness and everlasting peace. And sometimes, that miracle of God, of a holy body never to be torn or broken, but a plain magnificence of oblation.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Rosalinda_Flores-Martinez

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/5742862

Hi. This is Me. Have a good day everyone! Mwahs.

Three Scary Stories in Filipino

Three Scary Stories in Filipino

REBECCA

Kuwento ni Rose Flores – Martinez
30 Piling Kuwento 2003
Editor: Danilo S.Meneses
Introduksiyon ni : Reynaldo S. Duque

Makikita pa rin ang maraming bundok sa daan papuntang Bicol. Hindi maikakaila ang masukal na mga lugar. Sa bintanang salamin ay matatanaw ang lumang simbahan, na parang makapapasong tingkad ng liwanag, dala ng sinag ng pusyawing asul na ilaw ng krus sa gilid ng bundok.

Hindi ko maitago ang pagkamangha sa ganda ng kislap ng pusyawing asul na ilaw ng krus, hindi rin makapagsisinungaling ang aking damdamin.

Maganda nga, napakaganda ng kinang ng liwanag, ngunit sayang at hindi ko man lamang nadama ang hiwaga nito. Malamig ang dampi ng hangin sa paligid, may init ang sinag ng pusyawing asul na ilaw – katulad ng magkahalong lungkot at saya na aking nararamdama. Kung hindi nga lamang dahil kay Lola Basya …

Ano iyon? Mga ibong gubat? Marami pa ring ang mga kikik na nakakubli sa hinganteng mga punong kahoy sa gilid ng kabunkukang aming dinaraanan, pumupuno sa puwang ng iilang bahay sa tabi ng parang.

Kaya nga ba maririnig and mga usap-usapang nakakatakot at mga kuwentong hindi kapani-kapaniwala. Natatandaan ko ang mga kahiwagaan sa San Jose – ang mga engkanto, ang mga lamanlupa. Natatandaan ko rin ang pagkamatay ng isang malayang kamag-anak na tinatawag kong si Lolo Dado. Isang makisig at matandang lalaki nang magkasakit ay unti-unting namayat. At sabi-sabi, kapag gabi ay may makikitang aaali-aligigd na maga aso at baboy sa silong ng kanilang dampang bahay.

“Kain ka,” sabi ng katabi ko sa upuan.

Hindi ako makatanggi sa pag-abot niya sa akin ng kanyang kinakaing mani. Nakita ko ang masarap niyang pagnguya at pagkagat sa malulutong na butil.

“Salamat.”

“Sige dagdagan mo pa.”

“Tama na sa akin ito. May sira kasi ang aking mga ngipin kaya hindi masyadong makakagat ng matitigas.”

Nagsinungaling ako. Ang totoo, sa pagkuha ko ng ilang butil ay amoy na amoy ko ang matinding pagkagisa nito sa bawang. Ayaw ko ng bawang! Bagamat sa pagdaan ng panahon ay natuto rin ako na paunti-unting tumikim nito.

“Taga-rito ka rin ba?” tanong ko.

“Hindi. Dadalaw at magbabakasyon lamang. Maganda kasi rito sa Camarisnes Sur, lalo ang mga dagat. Talagang probinsyang-probinsiya. Maganda ang lahat, ang mga Bicolana – tulad mo! Kaya lang ang paligid, kung minsan ay nakakakilabot, masukal ang mga bundok. Sabi nga, marami raw ditong ‘anlayug’?”

Hindi ako sumagot. Minadali ako ng sigaw ng konduktor sa pagtigil ng bus mismo sa tapat ng aming malaki at lumang bahay. Nakalimutan ko tuloy ang magpaalam sa aking katabi. Parang kumukulog ang aking diddib sa lakas ng pintig ng aking puso. Nasasabik akong makita si Lola. Ang pag-ihip ng mabangong hangin sa aking mukha ay tila isang halik na nakapagpapasigla. Totoong takot akong umuwi, mayroon akong pangamba, ngunit iba ang sinasabi ng aking kaloooban. 

Halos lumipad ako papunta sa pintuan.

“Tapo po…Tapooooooooo…..!”

Bumukas ang pinto at sinalubong ako ng isang matandang babae.

“Magandang tanghali po…po!” ang bati niya.

“Kayo ba ang bagong katulong?”

“Ako nga…Ako si Tessie na inirekumenda ng inyong katiwalang si Blandina.”

Tinitigan ko siya mula ulo hangaang paa. Matandang posturyosa! Napansin ko ang kanyang mapupulang labi dahil sa lipstick.

Binati ko si Tessie nang papuring may kasamang pa-insulto. “Para pala kayong artista, pinagsamang Rosanna Roces at Ai-Ai!”

Ngumiti siya, tuwang, tuwa dahil napansin ko. Nagliwanag ang dati’y nanlilisik na mga mata. Dahan-dahan, may pag-arteng hinaplos ang buhok na nagtatayuang parang alambre sa tigas.

“Ang dilim naman. Bakit sarado and bintana, ang aga-aga pa?”

“Malamig. Bawal malamigan si Lola.”

“E, and mga ilaw, bakit hindi ninyo buksan?”

Sinindihan ko ang mga ilaw, inikot ko ang bahay upang mabuksan lahat ng switch para magliwanag. Pinagpagan ko ang mga mesa at tinanggal ang alikabok at mga sapot ng gagamba na nakadikit sa mga sulok. 

Pagkatapos, hindi ako nagpaliban pa ng mga sandali para Makita si Lola Basya. Ito ang panahong aking pinakahihihtay. Marahil ito na, ang panahong aking pinakahihintay…
“Kumusta ka, Lola? Andito po ako si Rebecca, ang inyong paboritong apo,” ang aking bulong sa kanyang malalapad na tainga habang lumalapat na marahan ang aking labi sa kanyang noo, sa kulubot na pisngi, sa pagod na mukha.

Nangatal ang aking laman sa hitsura na bumungad sa akin. Payat na payat ang matanda. Maitim ang kaniyang mga kuko at labi, hirap sa paghinga at mahinang-mahina. Parang may hinihintay. Wari ay maghihintay pa…

Ang lungkot na aking nadama ay hindi ko maipaliwanag. Sa muling paghalik ko sa kanyang noon ay may tumutulong luha sa mga mata nang naramdaman ko ang isang kalabit.

“Magme…meryenda ka muna, Rebecca,” sabi ni Tessie na nagdudumaling pabalik sa kusina. Sinundan ko si Tessie ng tingin hanggang matapat sayi sa salamin at kung paano nag-iba ang anyo ng kanyang mukha ay hindi ko alam. Pumapangit ang hitsura niya, lumalaki and mga mata, humhaba ang dila at tumatayo ang mga buhok. Guni guni?”

Sa isang kisapmata, napasunod ako sa mabilis na paglakad ni Tessie, ni Manay Tessie. Nakalimutan ko ang lahat. Ang napansin ko lamang ay para siyang dala ng hangin. Maliksi ngunit walang ingay ang mga yabag. Pagkatapos, gumuhit muli sa alaala ko ang lahat sa pagkalam ng aking sikmura. Hindi ko na hinintay ang paglamig ng mga pagkain.

Nanonood si Manay Tessie sa aking pagsubo, tinitingnan ang aking pagnguya. Nakangisi. Tuwang-tuwa.

“Ma… masarap?” tanong niya.

“Oo. Sino bang nagluto ng mga pagkain dito? May mga katulong ba galing sa bukid? Si Blandina?”

“Ako na rin. Sabi kasi ni… ni Blandina ang bilin mo raw ay huwag nang kumuha ng iba pang katulong…”

“Masarap ka palang magluto. E, kumusta nama ang pagkain in Lola?”

“Mahirap ngang pakainin si Lola Basya. Ang lagi kong ibinibigay sa kanya ay ang nasa.. sa latang pagkaing gamut na inireseta ni Dr. Rosales.”

“Ganu’n ba? Ano ba ang sabi ng doctor?”

“Talaga raw ganyan. Baka naman iba ang gu-gusto ng Lola mo…”
Hindi ako nakasagot. Sa pakiramdam ko, siya ay nanunuya. Hindi ako tanga. May itinanim na palaisipan para sa akin si Tessie. Nag-init ang aking mga tainga, bahagyang sumulak ang aking dugo, namula ang aking balat sa inis. Tiningnan ko si Manay Tessie ang matalim, parang mangangaing aking titig, tagos sa mabilis na kurap ng kanyang mga mata. Napayuko siya. Napahiya. Pagkatapos ay nakita kong may isang basong tubig na ako sa mesa.

“Mamayang alas-siyete, baka pupunta uli si Dr. Rosales. Makabubuting kayo na po… pooo.. ang makipag-usap,” sabi ni Tessie.

“Linisan mo na lamang dito,” ang aking madiing utos.

Inis pa rin ako. Sa malakas na boses ay ipinakita kong ayaw ko sa kanyang pabalagbag na sagot. Ako ang amo, ako ang dapat masunod. Hindi ako dapat pangunahan.

“Simula ngayon, ako na ang mag-aalaga kay Lola Basya. At siya nga pala, huwag mong patayin ang ilaw sa kanyang silid.”

Pilit kong pinigil ang aking sarili sa pakikipag-usap sa kanya kaya nalunod ako sa katahimikan. Naisip ko ang lungsod. Kapanglawan ang tanging yumakap sa akin habang nakatitig ako sa pagkakahiga ni Lola. Malapit na… Iiwan niya ako.

Si Lola Basya. Si Lola Basya ang nag-alaga sa akin buhat nang ako ay maulila. Ginawa niya ang lahat para ako ay makapamuhay nang masagana at tahimik sa kabila nang sabi-sabing lintek na sumpa sa aming angkan. Hindi rin siya nagkulang sa pagpapa-alala sa akin tungkol sa kabutihan at tiwala sa Maykapal, kahit alam niyang ako ay may tinatagong poot at hinanakit.

Nagtatampo ako… sa simbahan. Ngunit umaasa at naniniwala. 

May lagay na napakalaking krus si Lola sa isang lugar ng aming bahay, tulad ng pusyawing krus sa simbahan. May mga angel na palamuti sa bawat sulok nito at tinakpan ng mga luma at makutim ng tela. Natabunan ng alikabok.

Tinanggal ko ang mga tela.

“Hindi kita bibiguin, Lola.”

Narinig ko ang ugong ng electric fan sa silid ni Lola Basya. Ang ingay na ito na tanging bumabasag sa katahimikan ng paligid. Umaalingawngaw ang ugong sa maluwang na kabahayan na kinukurtinang ng asul.

“Isa… dalawa.. tatlo…nararamdam ko pati ang pagpihit ng malaking orasan. Malapit na nga. Halos pahiramin ko ng pahininga si Lola at isipin kung mabuti sa kanyang pisilin ang kansyang ilong para matapos ang kanyang paghihirap? Malakas ang aking kaba. Lumalakas sa paghihintay kung ano ang sunod na mangyayari.

Gusto kong bulabugin ang langit! Gusto kong isigaw ang aking mga tanong. Lagi akong nagtatanong, laging nagtatanong sa Diyos kung bakit kami ay kanyang pinabayaan. Hindi maarok ng aking isipan ang mga kakaibang pangyayari sa mga pagsubok na ito. Pilit kong iniintindi ang kahiwaagaan, ang mga sakit sa aming buhay, na hanggang ngayon ay hindi ko maintindihan at mahanapan ng lunas.

“Re… Rebecca! Manood naman tayo ng TV. Tapos na ako sa aking mga gawain.” Naistorbo ako sa aking pag-isiip at pagkakaupo sa ulunan ng kama ni Lola.

Sumusulpot si Manay Tessie nang pabigla-bigla. Noon, napabulaslas naman ako ng halakhak sa bigla niyang pagharap sa akin. Napagmasdam ko ang kanyang napakaputing mukaha na parang pinadukdok sa arina.

“Sige, buksan n’yo na nga.!”

“Alam mo ba? La…..la…. lahat ng Channel ay mayroon dito sa atin. Kaya ng lamang ay malabo. Ang marami ay….ay mayroon na ring cable channels na kanilang tinatawag. Sila mayor yata ang unang nagkaroon dito.”

Namangha ako. Sa hitsura niya’y parang hindi niya alam ang cable ngunit… masyado yata akong makapag-isip. Itinuon ko na lamang ang aking atensiyon sa pinapanood na palabas. Naguguluhan ako. 

Maya maya pa, sa kagagala ng aking mata ay muli kong napagmasdan ang matandang katulong. Napansin ko ang langis sa kanyang mga payat na braso, sa kanyang mga binti. Lalong pinakikintab ng langis ang kaliskis sa balat ng kanyang mga paa. Nagpapadulas…

Pagkasuklam ang nararamdaman ko para kay Manay Tessie sa pagtuklas ng maraming bagay tungkol sa kanya. Tulad ng pagtalikod niya kapag matatapat sa malaking krus. May kakaibang amoy rin na iniiwan ang haplas niyang langis. Mabaho. Sabi niya, ito raw ay parang Omega Balm, gamot sa nananakit na mga buto at kalamnan.

“Ang mga aswang ay may ritwal na ginagawa,” kuwento ni Lola Basya. “Kailangan sila ay maghaplos sa buong katawan bago magpalit ng anyo.”


Inusisa ko ang pangalan ng panghaplos ni Manay Tessie. “Ang baho-baho! Bukas bibigyan kita ng lotion para mabango ka!” sabi ko.

“Sa i…Instsik ‘to…Hindi ko alam ang pangalan . Sa sitsiriya ko nabili noong nakaraang piyesta. Malansa ba? Bibigyan mo ako ng bagong lotion? Kung gusto mo imamasahe pa kita, Rebecca.”

Lalapit na sana siya sa akin ngunit pinigil ko. Pagkatapos may nakita ako ng mga posporo sa paligid niya na nangaghulugan habang ang isang istik ay ginamit niyang parang toothpick.

“Ang mga istik ng posporo ay ginagamit nilang pampalakas. Ito ay babala ng isang aswang,” naalala kong muli ang kuwento ni Lola.

Sa mga oras na iyon, matalim ang titig sa akin ni Manay Tessie. Ang singkitin niyang mga mata ay parang nagdiringas at tulala habang kinukutkut niya ng posporo ang kanayang ngipin. Nakita ko rin ang posporo na pula ang dulo, kasing pula ng dugo. Hindi ko lang pinansin. Pagkatapos hindi ko na napigil ang antok.

Kinaumagahan dalang-hangin na naman si Manay Tessie na papalapit sa akin. Inilalantad niya sa aking harapan ang bila-bailaong mga prutas na galing sa bukid. Inaalo ako. Bakit?

Mabilis ang tiktak ng orasan. Hindi ko iniwanan si Lola Basya hanggang sa paglubog ng araw. Hindi ko rin kinausap ang matandang katulong sa buong maghapon tulad ng dati. Nagpakitang gilas si Tessie. Sa dapithapon ng maayos na ang lahat ng kanyang trabaho ay nagpaikut-ikot naman siya sa bakuran. Nakita ko ang kalungkutan sa kanyang mukha na nakatingala sa langit. Nag-iisip parang nagmamakaawa…

Tumabi akong muli kay Lola. Inayus-ayos ang higaan niya. Tumingala din ako sa langit, sa itaas – at katulad ni Manay Tessie ay nagmakaawa…

“First Friday pala ngayon,” bulong ko sa aking sarili. Dinapuan na naman ako ng lungkot. Hinaplus-haplos ko si Lola Basya.

Madilim na. Malakas ang hangin sa labas. Maraming ibon. Tahimik ang gabi. Bilog ang buwan. Ang liwanag ay sumusungaw sa maliit na kawang ng bintanang kapis. Nakakahalina ang liwanag. Hindi ako mapakali. Maya-maya may nakita akong asong itim sa gilid ng bakuran. Mala-dambuhala, kaya isinarado kong mariin ang mga bintana.

Mabilis, may nag-udyok sa akin para lumabas ng kuwarto. Natigilan ako. Wari ay may humihila sa aking mga paa papuntang pintuan. Sinigurado kong nakakandado ang lahat ng mga pinto at itinarangka itong mabuti. Binuksan kong lahat ang mga ilaw. Ang aming bahay ang pinakamaliwanag sa buong San Jose! Parang piyesta, parang may prusisyon ng Santakruzan sa tapat!

“Nakahanda na ba ang mesa? Manay! Manay!”

Hangos ako sa paghahanap kay Manay Tessie. Takbo ako papuntang kusina. “Ayyy, naku!’andiyan ka na pala bakit hindi ka nagsasalita?”

May apoy ang mga titig niya. Nakapapaso. Nagsimulang magtayuana ng kanyang mga buhok, kumpul-kumpol. Natatandaan ko ang mukha niyang nakakatakot ng makita ko ang kanyang mukha sa salamin sa sala., noong ako ay bagong dating.

“Ano ang tumutulo sa iyong damit?”

“Regla!” Nagdudumali si Manay Tessie. Hinila ko ang kanyang kamay at kinaladkad papuntang sala, pinaharap ko sa malaking krus. Pilit siyang nagpupumiglas. Hinila ko ang kanyang buhok na nangagtatayuan. Dahan-dahan, parang nahahati ang kanyang katawan na nagpausbong sa luwang ng kanyang damit…

“Dugo ‘yan ni Lola!”

“Bakit? Di ba gusto mo rin ng dugo?”

“Walanghiya!”

Umikot ako sa hangin at tinadyakan ko si Tessie ng malakas, malakas na malakas. Paulit-ulit. Pagkatapos ay mabilis akong nagpunta sa kusina.

Pabalik, hinarap ko si Tessie…

Ilang sandali pa mahinahon na ang hangin. Nalilito ako sa susunod na gagawin. Ang natatandaan ko lamang ay ang simbahan… ang pusyawing asul na ilaw ng krus.

Sabi ni Lola, ang simbahan daw ay luklukan para makapagbagong- buhay. Ito raw ay may kapangyaringhang bendisyon sa unang iyak pa lamang ng sanggol hanggang sa huling hantungan ng kaluluwa.






Kuwento ni Rose Flores – Martinez
30 Piling Kuwento 2003
Editor: Danilo S.Meneses
Introduksiyon ni : Reynaldo S. Duque

**************************************************************************

Sa Aking Silid

Ramdam ko ang pait at pagmamalupit ng panahon sa akin. Sa tuwing ako ay lilisan palabas ng aking silid, may kahalong lungkot at ligaya tarak sa aking puso. Tila ako ay binalutan ng tinik sa dibdib.

Simula noong ako ay bata pa sa pagpasok ng aking silid may kaba at takot na laging umaamba sa paligid, parang usok na lumalaki.

Si Ama ay isang kilalang tao sa lipunan. Mataas ang tingin ng mga taga-bayan sa kanya, maging ang kanyang mga kakompetensya sa San Gabriel. Sa araw araw na ginawa ng Diyos, masaya ang mga taong dumadalaw sa aming bahay na lagging may pagdiriwang na nagaganap. Mahal na mahal si ama mga taga- San Gabriel. Mahal din ni Ama si Ina… at ako. Maraming tao ang natulungan ni Ama. Mahirarap man o mayaman, walang pinipiling tulungan. Maraming krimen din ang nalutas. Maliban lamang sa kaso dito sa aming bahay. Iyan ang lihim.

Sa aking silid, pinid ang durungawan. Ang mga ala-ala ng aking nakaraan ay hindi maungkat. Ayaw kong maungkat muli ang mga ala-ala ng aking Ina. Maging si Ama ay ayaw ding makaalis sa mga alaala ng silid na ito.

Si Inang may mala-rosas na kutis, makintab, maitim at mahabang buhok, mapupulang labi. Hindi maiwasang ang mga kalalakihan dito sa amin ay mabihag ng kanyang kagandahan.

Isang gabi ng Disyembre, ako at si ina, ay bumili sa Quiapo. Pumili kami ng mga parol para sa pasko at pangregalo sa mga kaibigan, kamaganak at mga kasamahan. Marami kaming nabiling mga baso. Tuwang tuwa ako noon. Hindi ko makalimutan ang mga sandaling kapiling ko ang aking ina. Hawak ko ang kanyang palad na parang unan . Maligaya ako kapag magkasama kami ni Ina . Dama ko din ang seguridad na may gumagabay sa akin. Mula sa kanyang mga pangako na “hindi niya ako pababayaan” ay mga salitang nagpapalakas sa akin.

Sa pag-uwi sa aming bahay galling sa Quiapo ay mahigpit pa ang hawak kamay namin ni Ina. Kumalas ako sa napansin kong kaunting liwanag galing sa siwang n pinto na aking silid. Ngunit hindi ko pa rin ito binigyang pansin. Iniwanan ko muna si Ina sa tabi ng pintong my kawang, at hinayaan ni Inang kumalat ang liwanag mula sa ilaw ng maliit na kandila ng aking silid.

Ngunit . . . ano ito? Bigla akong nakarinig ng malakas na sigaw ni Inang, “Tulong, tunlong!” Nakita ko ang anim na kalalakihan sa paligid. Ginapos is Ina. Agad akong tumakbo patungo para magligtas. Ngunit sa aking murang edad, wala akong nagawa sa anim na kalalakihan. Umiyak at sumigaw, “Ama, Ama ... tulungan mo kami…” Walang si Ama. Walang taong sa bahay. Walang nakarinig.

Ang mga haling ang kaluluwa ay tuwang tuwa. At nakita ko isa sa kanila na humawak sa nagpupumiglas kong kamay ay si Emil. “Si Emil! Masama ka, masama ka! “

Si Emil ay kasambahay naming pinagkakatiwalaan ni ama. Si Emil na nakakaalam ng mga secreto ng aming pamilya. Si Emil na itinuring na anak ni Ama at ni Ina. “Ang aking nakatatandang kapatid at tapat na kaibigan?”

Paano ito nangyari sa aming pamilya? Ang akala naming Kuya Emil ay is palang anak ni Hudas! Sa sandali ng aking pagkatulala, may hinampas sa aking batok. Ito ang nagpagpatumba at nagpatigil sa aking hagulhol. Parang nawalan ako ng ulirat at hinang hina.

Pinilit kong tumayo sa pagkakahiga at nakagapos pa rin si Ina. At abot tanaw ko habang nilalapastangan siya – hinuhubaran, hinahalikan, winalang-hiya! Nakita ko kung paano lumaban si Ina at sumigaw at paulit ulit niya kaming tinawag. Nagdasal ako. “Magdasal, magdasal,” naalala kong pangaral niya.

Nakatulog ako sa masamang panaginip at nagising. “Si Ina!” Duguan, walang buhay. Si Ina na aking pinakamamahal, wala na siya. Nandoon din si Ama sa labis na paghihinagpis.

Niyakap kong mahigpit ang aking Ina. Niyakap ko ang malamig na katawan. Pilit ko siyang ginigising sa pagbabakasakaling may milagro at siya ay mabuhay. Hindi gumising si Ina. At marahil, sa pagkamatay ni Ina, itinulak ako ni Ama at sinabing, “Ikaw na lamang sana ang namatay, hindi siya.” Ang pagpanaw ni Ina ay kasabay ang pagpanaw ng aking buhay.

At ngayon, sa tuwing ako ay mapapagawi sa aming bahay, sa aking silid, lahat ng ala-ala ng kahapon ay pilit na nagbabalik. Ang kahapong umiikot sa buhay ko. Ang kahapong maramot sa aking matikman ang ligaya ng kasalukuayan at pagasa ng bukas. Ang kahapong ako ay pinagmalupitan at ginapos. Ang kahapong buhay ang aking Ina!

Parati ko na lang dinatnang mainit ang ulo ni Ama. Walang puwang ang kasiyahan sa akin , at nawala na rin ng puwang ko sa puso ni Ama kasabay ng pagpanaw ni Ina. Pinagbubuntungan niya ako ng galit. Marahil marami siyang problema mula sa pulitika. Marahil hanggang ngayon ay isa pa rin siyang bilanggo ng kahapong hindi marunong magpatawad. “Ako ang kanyang sinisisi sa pagkawala ni Ina!”

Si Emil, na anak ni Hudas ay masayang nakakagala ngayon at tila walang kasalanan. Hindi na siya nagpakita pa sa mga pulis. Ngunit, alam kong siya ay ma-impluensya.

Ang maraming tagapaglingkod naming sa bahay ay pinaalis din ni Ama. Kaya lahat ng gawaing bahay ay ako ang gumagawa. Ako na rin ang pilit na pumupuno sa mga pangangailangan ni Ama. Ako at ako lang. At sa tingin ko ay hindi pa rin sapat ang lahat ng aking pagsisikap. Hindi ko siya masisisi.

Hindi nabigyan ng hustisya ang kaso ni Ina gayong si Ama ay isang kilala at sa lipunan. Bakit kaya?

Mula nang matalo ang kaso ni Ina, sinabi niyang siya ang pinakawalang-kwentang tao sa buong mundo. Pati ang mga mamamayang madalas niyang tulungan kagaya ni Mang Ambit at ni Aling Aurora ay binabale-wala na niya kahit pinagsilbihan kami ng mga matatanda ng buo nilang buhay at katapatan. Hindi nagtagal, nawala siya din siay sa pulitika. Hindi niya ininda. Wala siyang pakialam kung ano ang mga mangyari, mawala man ang lahat. . . mawala man ako.

At ngayon, wala na si Amang pinagkakaabalahan kundi ang alak at sugal. Masaya niyang kanakausap lamang ang litrato ni Ina, na kahit anong milagro, ay hindi hindi babangon.

Wala pinipiling pagkakataon ang init ng ulo ng aking Ama. Kahit maraming tao sa bahay at mga kaibigan sa sugal ay wala sa kanyang pahiyain ako. Pilit niya akong pinapapasok sa silid sabay sabing “Ayaw kitang makita!!!” At pilit niyang iginigiit ang mga katagang ako na lang sana ang nawala at hindi si Ina. Ako naman ay agad-agad na papasok at nanginginig ang mga binti at buong katawan kasabay ng matinding takot. At madalas, kapag ako ay nasa silid na, hindi maiwasan ang pagsunod ni Ama. Ang mga mata niya ay nag-aapoy sa galit. At doon, sa aking silid - ako ay kanyang sinasaktan. At sa silid, pilit bumabalik ang mapait na kahapon. Pilit akong sumisigaw sa sakit habang hinahampas ako ng latigo. Marahil, ang tingin niya sa akin ay ako ang mga kriminal na pumaslang kay Ina. Wala siyang pinipiling tamaan. Buong parte ng aking katawan ay walang kawala sa hagupit ng kanyang latigo. Ako’y nagmamakaawa at isinisigaw ang “Ama, Ama tama na po.” Sana mamatay na nga ako. Madugo ang paligid. Maswerte lamang ako at nakakayanan ko ang mga malulupit na palo. Marahil ito ay dahil sa patnubay ni Ina sa akin kahit anong mangyari ay hindi niya ako pinababayaan.

Salamat sa Diyos at hanggang ngayon ay buhay ang pangako ni Ina. Sa sumunod pang mga araw, patuloy ang pananakit si Ama sa akin. Nakalimutan niya marahil na ako ay kanyang anak, at siya ay aking ama. Puno ang puso niya ng poot na isainasabuhay niya sa kalupitan at lubusang pagkalimot ng pagmamahal sa akin.

Magiisang taon na din ang kamatayan ni Ina mula sa kanyang mapait na sinapit. Patuloy an gaming kalbaryo ni Ama. Totoong hindi niya mapatawad ang kanyang sarili dahil hindi niya nabigyang hustisya ang among kaso.

Isang araw, habang ako ay patuloy na sinasaktan ni Ama, biglang nasanggi ng kanyang latigo ang larawan ni Ina. Bumalik bigla sa aking alaala ang mga pangyayaring naganap kay Ina. At kung saan galling sinabayan ang iyak at paghihinagpis ko ng sigaw at iyak ng ni Ina. Naisip ko ang pagkakataong dapat kong ipagtanggol ang aking naaaping ina. At sa di sinasadyang pangyayari ay naitulak ko si Ama gamit ang aking natitira pang lakas. Tumama ang kanyang ulo sa kanto ng aking kama. Duguan si Ama! Natulala ako… Bigla yatang nabaliktad ang mundo. Nakita ko si Ama. Duguan. Tila gripong bumulwak ang dugo sa kanyang ulo. Nagmakaawa si Ama at humingi ng aking tulong at patawad. Subalit bakit ganon? Tila hindi ko siya ama? Nakita ko ang mukha ni Emil. At kahit konting awa ay wala akong nadama.

Sa pagkakataon ding iyon ang aking pagmamahal kay Ama ay hindi ko naalala o naramdaman man lang. Kinuha ko ang latigo at inisip ko na makaganti. Nagmakaawa si Ama, sigaw sa daing, abot langit ang pagsisisi. Naririnig ko ang hiyaw ng paghihinagpis niya kasabay ng paulit-ulit kong hampas ng latigo. Pili ko lang ang mga parteng aking hampas. Ang kanyang mukha, at ang kanyang dibdib. Iyon lamang. Binigyan ko ng maraming latay si Ama. Madugo ang silid. Kalat ang mga talsik ng dugo sa aking labi, sa aking katawan, sa mga dingding at sulok. Bakit ganoon? Mahal ko si Ama ngunit hindi ko na maramdaman na mahal ko siya? At alam ko, mahal din ako ni Ama ngunit hindi ko din maramdaman na mahal niya ako. Kaya naman, pabilis ng pabilis ang paghagupit ko sa kanya sa paniniwalang maaari ko siyang baguhin sa ganoong paraan. Ilang sandali lamang ay wala nang hinagpis at ungol. Si Ama! Ano ang nangyari kay Ama? Wala na akong narinig na hininga mula kay ama. “Hindi!” Napatay ko siya.

Nabalot ang buong silid ng katahimikan. Ang pawang narinig ko na lamang ay ang mabilis na tibok ng aking dibdib. Patay na si Ama. Wala kahit isang patak na luha ang gusting tumulo. Marahil ay nagalak ako ngayon, sa anibersayo ng pagkamatay ni Ina na, ay araw din ng paglaya namin ni Ama mula sa masamang bangungot na dulot ng tadhana.

Kinuha ko ang larawan ng aking pumanaw na ina at pinagmasdan ko. Bumalik sa mga alaala ko ang mga salitang binitawan ni ina niya noon “Anak, hinding hindi kita pababayaan…” Patnubay ko nga siya.

At ngayon na kanyang anibersaryo ng kamatayan, ramdam ko na inilipat na ni Ina ang mga pangakong iyon kay Ama. Si Ama ay hindi ako pababayaan hanggang kamatayan. Mamahalin ako ni Ama. Simula noon, kami lagi ni Ama ang nasa bahay na iyon. Kaming dalawa sa silid. Nililinisan ko si Ama. Titiyakin kong walang ni isang bahid ng dugo ang dudumi sa katawan niya. Binihisan ko siya ng maayos na pantulog. Inihihiga ko siya sa aking kama para kami ay magkatabi.

Pagkalipas ng isang taon, kasama ko pa rin si Ama, sa aking kama, sa aking silid. At sa mga panahong nagdaan, doon ko naramdaman ang pagmamahal niya sa akin. Hindi na niya ako sinasaktan. Mahal pala ako ni Ama at mahal na mahal ko din siya.

Ma. Riza Flores Martinez, copyright 2009

Edited by Rose Flores - Martinez

***********************************************************************

Bolpen

Masarap mangarap, masarap mabuhay lalo na kung ang lahat ng iyong gusto sa buhay ay natutupad. Karangyaan, kayamanan, kasikatan yan ang pangarap ng lahat… at isa doon si Rosa. Si Rosa ay simpleng manunulat, may 2 anak at 6 na taon sa trabahong ito ngunit wala pa ding nangyayari sa buhay niya. Mahirap pa rin siya…at pawing lalong humihirap.

“Pesteng buhay ‘to! Kelan ba ko aangat sa estado kong ito?” ani ni Rosa. “Lagi na lang ganito, walang gustong tumanggap ng mga isinusulat ko? E napakagaling ko naman!”

“Ano ka ba Rosa? Maging matiyaga ka lang, may awa ang Diyos. Baka di pa dumadating ang tamang oras mo,” sagot ng kaibigan niyang si Leslie. “ Nga pala may opening sa darating na Biyernes sa may Ortigas, naghahanap sila ng mga writers para sa bago nilang ilalabas na libro, pwede ka doon. Bakit di mo subukan? Eto ang numero tawagan mo..”

“O sige, mapuntahan nga yan baka yan na yung matagal ko ng hinihintay na break!,” sagot ni Rosa.

“Oo nga, sige good luck sayo kaya mo yan. Balitaan mo na lang ako.” Sabi ni Leslie.

Purisigidong pursigido si Rosa, naghanda ng mga write-ups, iniwan muna ang mga ibang gawain para makapaghanda para sa job opening na ito. Nangutang pa ng perang pang-parlor at pamasahe. Talagang handing handa na siya.

Dumating ang Biyernes, handa na ang lahat, mula ulo hanggang paa ay ayos na ayos siya. Pagpasok sa building ay kapansin pansin siya: buhok ang nakaplantsa, damit ay mukhang nakahanger pa din at pedicure na kulay ginto.

Sa table, habang pumippirma at nagpapasa ng mga requirements si Rosa… “Aba, hindi ka naman masyadong handa? So ikaw pala si Rosa,” ani ng kanyang katabi. “Oo ako nga, bakit? E sino ka ba?,” sagot ni Rosa sa katabi. “Haha… totoo pala na may pagkamayabang ka…,” sagot kay Rosa ng kausap. “Hindi naman masyado, may ipagmamayabang naman e… dahil magaling ako at alam kong matatanggap ako dito,” sagot ulit ni Rosa. Humalakhak na lang ang kanyang kausap at umalis ng hindi nagpapakilala…

Pagkatapos ng ilang oras ay pinatawag na isa isa ang mga nag-apply.. Si Rosa na… Pag pasok sa kwarto ay nakaupo doon ang kausap niya kanina. Hawak ang kanyang resume at manuscript. “O, Rosa kamusta naman?! Maupo ka muna,” sabi ng lalaki. “Salamat po,, kung gayun kayo pala si Mr. Hernando Baltazar…,” sabi ni Rosa sa boses na nahihiya. “Ako nga, so, nabasa ko na ang iyong resume, at manuscript… napakawalang kwenta… ano to basura?,” sabi Mr. Baltazar. “Excuse me po… anong walang kwenta? Graduate ako sa kilalang unibersidad, may masteral pa ako, at isa pa… yang manuscript ko ay napakaganda,” pasigaw na sagot ni Rosa. “Sinong nagsabing maganda? Ikaw? Bobo ka ba?!” Basura to… Pwede ba wag ka ngang magsulat dahil wala ka ding maaabot… Pinipilit mo lang ang mga bagay na di mo kaya… Magtinda ka na lang ng kendi dyan sa tapat at baka sakaling yumaman ka pa…Hahaha!,” sagot sa kanya ni Mr. Hernando. Mabilis na dinampot ni Rosa ang kanyang gamit…at binantaan si Mr. Hernando… “Titingalain mo din ako baling araw, at sisiguraduhin kong ikaw ang magmamakaawa sa kin,” pasigaw na sinabi ni Rosa sabay binalibag ang pinto ng malakas.

Malungkot na malungkot si Rosa parang buong mundo ay bumagsak sa kanya. Wala siyang nakuhang trabaho. May utang pa siya… “Ano gagawin ko?, Bakit wala bang gustong magbasa ng mga isinusulat ko!” sabi ni Rosa habang lumuluha.

Naabutan na si Rosa ng ulan at gutom na gutom na siya. Bad trip na bad trip na siya. “Psst…!” Tila may tumatawag sa kanya ngunit wala naming tao… “Pssst!”… may simitsit ulit… “Hala sino bay un?!,” ani ni Rosa. Dahil sa sobrang galit lahat ng madadaanan ay pinagbubuntunan ng galit. Pati ang nakakalat na bolpen ay sinipa na lang… kawawang bolpen… “Aray!,” napasigaw si Rosa… “sino ba yung namamato?”… Tinamaan siya nung bolpeng sinipa nya…”Pssst!...Pssst!...Pssst!”… “Sino ka ba… at sitsit ka ng sitsit namamato ka pa?,” Pabalang na sabi ni Rosa… “Ako to ang bolpen!,” sagot ng bolpen sa maliit na boses. “Pulutin mo ko… matutulungan kita!”… biglang natauhan si Rosa. Namutla dahil nagsalita ang bolpen! “Di ba gusto mong yumaman… kailangan mo ko..” ani ng bolpen… “Talaga yayaman ako? Sisiskat?...Pano?,” tanong ni Rosa. “Basta kunin mo ko at tutulungan kita…” sabi ng bolpen. Dinala ni Rosa ang bolpen, nilagay sa bag at umuwi na sa kanyang bahay.

Pagdating sa kanyang bahay ay pinatong ni Rosa ang kanyang bag dumiretso sa kusina at nagluto ng hapunan para sa kanyang mga anak. Pagkatapos maghapunan..ay kitang kita ang kapaguran kay Rosa. Pahiga na si Rosa ng biglang… “Pssst…! Rosa….!” Nagising bigla si Rosa pumunta sa kanyang table at nakita ang bolpen… “Ano bang magagawa mo e bolpen ka lang? Napakapangit… luma…at mukaha pang mumurahin!,” pasigaw na sabi ni Rosa. “Hindi mo alam ang pwede kong magawa. Pwede kitang pasikatin…payamanin…kahit anong gusto mo, mga pangarap mo ay maaabot mo, mga kaaway mo ay magagantihan, mga taong gusto mo ay mapapalapit sayo! Kaya ko yung lahat!..,” sabi ng bolpen sa kanya. “Talaga lang ha…e bolpen ka lang pano mo naman matutulungan si Rosa na isang magaling na manunulat?” pagmamayabang ni Rosa. “Hello? Ikaw magaling? E bobo ka nga e…wala kang katalent talent kaya walang gustong bumasa ng mga sinusulat mo kasi para silang nagbabasa ng basura! Basta tutulungan kita… Pero sa isang kondisyon…” sabi ng bolpen. “Ano naman yun?,” sagot ni Rosa. “Ibibigay ko ang utak ko kapalit ng kaluluwa mo…Hahahaa!,” tuwang tuwang sagot ng bolpen kay Rosa… “Ang kaluluwa ko? Ayoko nga!, ” sagot ni Rosa sabay biglang tinapon ni Rosa ang bolpen… at pumunta na sa kanyang kama at natulog…

Sa kalagitnaan ng gabi biglang nagising si Rosa… Hindi siya makatulog kaya naisipan nyang magsulat na lang. Dinampot niya ang kanyang bolpen at kumuha ng malinis na papel. ”Kaiinis bakit naman walang mga tinta tong mga bolpen dito?,” pasigaw na sabi ni Rosa. Lahat ng bolpen na makuha nita ay walang tinta hanggang may isang pluma na nadampot nya…”Eto buti naman at may sumulat din dito sa mga bolpen dito,” ani ni Rosa. Nakatapos si Rosa ng isang writeup…ng mapansin nya na ang bolpen na hawak nya…”Hahaha… sabi ko na sayo… ako lang ang makakatulong sayo! Hahaha..” ani ng bolpen. “Hala… “Ba’t nandito ka? Tinapon na kita ha?!,” Namumutlang sagot ni Rosa. “Sabi ko naman sayo ako lang ang makakatulong sayo e… tingnan mo nakusaulat ka ngayon. Bukas ipasa mo agad yan at tiyak ko nay an ang magiging umpisa ng kasikatan mo…Hahaha!,” sabi ng bolpen.

Napaiyak si Rosa dahil alam niya ang magiging kapalit ng paggamit niya sa bolpen ay ang kanyang kaluluwa. Di niya alam kung anong gagawin niya. Kahit pilit niyang itapon ang bolpen ay bumabalik pa din sa kanya…

Kinabukasan ay napagisipan na ni Rosa na ipasa ang kanyang nagawa nanginginig na isinilid ni Rosa ang papel sa envelope…At dali dali ng umalis… Naipasa na ni Rosa ang kanyang ginawa… Walang sinabi sa kanya. Ang sabi ay tatawagan na lang daw siya. Pagdating sa bahay biglang ring ng telepono… “Kring…….!” “Hello, Magandang hapon!,”sagot ni Rosa. “Hello, Magandang Hapon po.. nandyan po ba si Rosa?” sabi ng nasa linya ng telepono. “Eto na nga po!,” sagot ni Rosa. “ Eto po si Mr. Erwin Lee, from Maxx Publications, nabasa namin yung mga writeups ninyo at napakaganda. Pwede ba naming ilagay sa libro naming?.. At saka gusto naming na magsubmit ka pa ng marami! Napakagaling mo kasi talaga,” sabi ni Mr. Lee. “Talaga po?.. Sige po bukas na bukas dadalhan ko pa kayo ng maraming writeups at manuscripts!,” Tuwang tuwang sagot ni Rosa. “Sige, pumunta ka dito sa opisina ko bukas ng umaga at gusto din kitang makausap,” sagot ni Mr. Lee. Pagkababa ng telepono ay nagtatalon sa tuwa si Rosa. Nung gabi ay nagsulat pa siya ng marami gamit ang bolpen na napulot niya. Nakalimutan muna ni Rosa ang kapalit na hinihingi ng bolpen… ginamit niya ito ng ginamit hanging sa sumikat na siya.

Sikat na sikat na si Rosa. Lahat ng tao ay iginagalang siya at tinitingala… Napakayaman niya na din… “Salamat sa’yo bolpen… tama ka…ikaw lang nga ang makakatulong s’akin. Kung wala ka siguro…walang wala pa din ako…,” bulong ni Rosa sa bolpen. “ Hindi ako tumatanggap ng salamat. Gaya nga ng sabi ko sayo kaluluwa mo ay akin na,” sagot ng bolpen. Namutla si Rosa. Naalala niyang ang lahat ng kanyang naabot ay may kapalit: ang kanyang kaluluwa… “Pwede ba iba na lang?! Wag lang ang aking kaluluwa…,” nagmamakaawang sagot ni Rosa. “Utak ko para sayo, Kaluluwa mo para sakin… yun ang usapan!,” sagot ng bolpen.

Ilang araw naging balisa si Rosa pilit niyang nilalayo ang bolpen para hindi niya magamit ngunit kahit anong gawin niya ay kusang lumalapit pa din to…Pilit niyang sinisira ngunit di pa din masira… “Hahaha… di mo ko kayang sirain…Hahaha!” sabi ng bolpen. Pilit pa din ni Rosa na sinisira yung bolpen ngunit tila lumalaban ito na parang tao…”Sige kung di kita masisira… di mo din makukuha ang kaluluwa ko!.” Sagot ni Rosa. Sabay biglang itinusok ang bolpen sa kanyang lalamunan. Bumagsak si Rosa sa mesa… Naging pula ang papel sa natahimik na buong paligid… “Matitigil na din ang kasamaan mo… ako na ang huli mong biktima!” sabi ni Rosa hanggang unti unting nawalan na ng hininga…

“Pssst… hahahaha… Walang makakasira sa akin....Hindi ninyo ako kaya… Hahaha!”

–Bolpen

Wenzi Jeanne Flores Martinez, copyright 2009

Edited Rose Flores Martinez, 2009Labels: fiction, iwrote fiction, three scary stories in Filipino, wenzi jeanne f. martinez

20 Love Poems in February and the Colors of You

20

LOVE

POEMS         by rosevoc

IN

F

E

B

R

U

A

R

Y

AND THE COLORS OF YOU

Dearest One

Dare Me to Love You

Corridors of Gold

If Tonight

Labyrinth of Time

In Many Moons

The Moon, Our Mirror

This Time Dear God I Pray

Waiting for Autumn

You

Faceless

Hereafter

I Remember You

One Sweet Rain

Train 69.  For You

Colors:  Painted Texts

Trail

Today, I Was in Vietnam

Evanescence

August Nights

For You

For Vocations

For Holy Workers of God

‘Luv’ you always,

Rosevoc2

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Dearest one, the reply couldn't reveal what I aim to know. As beautiful as white and blue clouds - only of two colors, all of you shift in glory, blazing flesh in shades so sweet, ignites fire in me. Bells in yellow dawn sing hymns of the sky, waking me up sweetly in a tender mist of a kiss. I awake with you in my thoughts, sleep with you in my thoughts and pray earnestly - chained above in drops of rain, if for mercy. How sweet the bells, prodding me to see the most faithful Heart holding our hopes and dreams. Refreshed, I come solemn with you in thought of our future. But it says "Live one day at a time. God will take care of your tomorrow, too." In the afternoon, bathed in perfume I wait - hoping you'd come, and I, close to your skin; flesh to sky, sky to flesh - My shoulders, cold and bereft, always longed for your embrace; my wish, is to be next to you. So the cross, stands in courage - I lean my thighs, my arms, and my hands that hold nothing, but only your promises.

My husband! My life and my breath, a radiant amethyst of flame - let me cry in your chest; like the sea, you conquer in you hands is my love you conquer in your heart, hearts, oh heart in one beat, and a blast of stars - in God's Sacred Love. 

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YOU

Dare me to love you, in the spaces of my imagination where there is no reality. 

Dare me to sleep with you and chain me to your heart.

Dare me to seek out adventures of life where our mouths suck each other’s tongue.

Seize me not to think, but only love you.

I will let you touch me now.

All those years we've grappled to remain pure.

The flesh grows old, but then blood would always be clean in a spectrum of rainbows.

Your colors are elegant to me.

Your vivid sense of loyalty and stand illuminates salvation.

Our houses keep me.

They make me strong as a bull, but scared as a baby when you go.

When would you come back?

When would you sing out your heart?

When would we read again, then stop and kiss?

Our emotions will not furrow, I tell you not.

I would not allow it.

God has built you an android beating.

I live from time to time, newly created.

My poems forever will speak of zeal.

It is meant for you.

Dare me again.

Be with me on the subway, in the library, in the park or kneel with me side by side.

Dare me to love you.

Seize me not to think, but only love you.

I will stay.

I promise. 

C

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OF

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Time, the precious stone of sunlight
Was your gift to me

Your hymn, the rising and falling
Tide of the shore
Was the only voice
I could recognize

Gold lights in the corridors
Were the precious hours
We laughed aloud the pantry
Reading,
And when the lights were off
You told me I was beautiful

I have kept your word
Your every promise of hope
All that made you
Inevitable

Gold was
The evening color

Gold in the calm
Corridors of the house

When your sturdy footsteps were
My pride

When faith in your eyes gleamed
Like agates
In the tint of golden rays
Coming from
The core of a pure heart

Gold
When, in the Blessed Sacrament of Gold,
Nested in the hours of longing
Breathed in me mercy

It was in the corridors

We sat together,
In the corridors, you held every bead
Tightly
Grasping for grace

My heart wanted you
Your language of adoration

In those corridors
You were most amiable,
In your every breath of prayer.

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Tonight I will hide from the world
And sleep with my sorrows

I will remember how in my delusion
You are real, like my flesh

Heavens say my lovers are angels
And so does unreal stories

Now I'm a frozen battlefield
Of thoughts which I couldn’t draw

My mortal body lay alive shielded,
And unharmed
It abhors those, unlike you

Would I ask GOD why He called me
To pen about your surrendering self to Him?

I just adore your lovely hands that raise up
Your fragrant mouth that tastes nothing but grapes
Your lucid eyes like stars and spring
I curl in humility where you love only GOD

When I see you with other women
Holding tight and even, if kissing only friends,
I feel furious
I can see your imperfections haunting me
Like a world of explosion on my being

I am your mother who weeps
Your daughter who seeks you
Your wife who gets your shoes
Your sister feeding your kitchen

I have no face

If you forget me, I have gone miles away
I have left with traces of my dreams
Burned under boiling sun rays

If only for tonight,
Find me
Let me hide from the world
So I can know myself.

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TIME

Labyrinth of velvet soft chants, stay
Dwell in my heart like a baby
Carnival of childhood, teacher
Of truth beyond Cities, hold me

When I have missed Big Dipper and
Roller coaster fun, my wail reached
Your deepening rites, and I
Remembered I’m but dust and too

Fragile like the leaves falling on
Your hands. There you were on clouds
In caves, rocks, chipped snows, and rain
Showering fountains over me

My stories are my flesh, an
Incense that would lift you - fly, run
You. Be drumbeats of Kilimanjaro
Let you, climb the Horse of Troy

Around and around let go, let my
Tongue moan the maze in your heart
Trace vein, muscles of mountains
Where you kneel and etch those lips

Engraved on chest of blest nations
I do cherish who you could be
Longed your breath in wind of grace
Every time I glide a kite or

Fire a gun, or kneel beside the dead
All of me is Yours -
Red, ripe, grapes and mist of
Dawn, cup of eternal blood

Flex a simulacrum of walls
Between labyrinths crumble
Crumble before time, you lay
Bring me where Saints weave ripples of

Amaranth and gold. Shimmers
black butterfly wags you bold in
Stance, ready to plough pollens
Rich milk and honey, honey burst

From sun and stars. Let you bow,
Bow a thousand times and kneel
Plant, play bones and meteors, conquer
Free with your arms and hands
The promises of Moses

Traces of my breath speak of you
My nothingness dwells believing
Flames from heaven will burn and scythe
Scars shaking boundaries of men

Don’t you leave me now, but hold me
Tight. Grip my fingers tight, rest me -
On your lap and kiss me. Kiss me –
That blood I spilled, bled in your
mouth –
On you - forever.

IN

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Soon, I will die for my love

and he will die for me


When our cups will be one

the earth will tremble

the mountains will crack

and the sea will divide


My dearest will embrace me

in the nest of the battlefield

and I will kiss the hilt of his

sword that will pierce the dragon


My dearest will chain Medusa

and bury the serpents head

I will let my knight ride on

my back and we will fly

and slash with lightning

any creature that goes

between our love


We shall never separate

until death meridians will

hold us together from pole

to pole our stars, an

army to guard our nook


The wind a shield to cover

from the foe and the

moon our bed of conception

will hide itself in red blaze


We will make love in

many moons, in 360

days we’ll sup bliss, sire an

offspring in Indian summer


They will till the soil

dig the sea, a harvest

so great, deities will agree


Me and my love, an

army of constellations

will never separate


Until in GOD’s hand,

In a deep peaceful slumber,

He will lock us in His chest.

THE

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There

We can see each other now.

You look to be as beautiful when we last saw each other.

Your eyes, your smile – and everything of you that grows old and stays young make me love you even more.

See the full moon, that’s our mirror.

Know I adore you for eternity.

T

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TIME

DEAR

GOD

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For your mercy, grace, and love made visible everyday
For your manifestations of the little miracles
For the happy encounters that come our way.

For your care in our loneliest and darkest moments
Sometimes, unbelieving moments;
Father, your providence in us to share –

Your eyes on us, do stare
I pray, for your presence in front of us
Face to face.

Your power in us for humility
Your very tight embrace in joy
The fragments of Your breath Father,
And the HOLY SPIRIT blown upon our mouths. 

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AUTUMN

In my place, autumn comes near Christmas
Far less of the day and more of the night
I have always longed to see it

The leaves of autumn and its gloom
Cry with me. The sky
Its golden and orange color
Speak of my soul

In autumn are times my heart seeks for you
I can hear your breath
In the circles of fog that color the wind

When your eyes meet with mine
It speaks a language we both couldn’t understand
But of efflorescence of dawn in the coals that fade
In the calm of autumn

Outside my little hut
I see the roses fall like sakura
Each petal fall like a teardropp that you wipe away


My words pile up a heap of dried leaves
In front of the grotto, waiting
I’d sit on a log, till the hymn of the evening rings

One by one you come and go
In the shade of stars and clouds, and the time I hold in my hand
A time I would not lose
Until the hours are nailed rainbows on my chest

Autumn, is my womb that grows a child
The white snow that hugs the old big roots of giant trees
Covering it safely, until it melts, 
They are together

I know it will take a long time
To grow again, another tree
My tears fall on the earth
Burying the next seeds

Now the windows are filled with light
Illumined with trees stretched in abundance
Begging the sky

My womb, the earth’s womb

Waiting.

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U

You were the dream I had last night
All - about you. When you held me

In the arms of eternity
When you kissed me in the brink of 

Death. When you breathed in me. I 
Knew I was the first you ever loved

I felt how you ached when words were 
Mute. And you couldn’t shout your moan

And you couldn’t touch that dainty 
Pink lace of time

You

Deserve my love
Every beat of my heart will kiss

For you. Every song I sing will 
Shout for you - how much, how much 

I love 
You

Rainbows flow and waterfalls 
Gush on me. The clouds, the wind

A stage where I dance as day 
And night I weave moon and stars 

Then you, put a crown on my head, 
The gleaming jewel of sun rays

I feel your eyes burst me. Your heart
Raise my brokenness. I die, 

For you
I live 
For you

No other man would dare take me
Except you. In all my agonies 

Drenched in every sorrow of the world
I have loved you

How my spine shivered, how my 
Breath whispered your love. Till fragrant 

Flowers bloom, Sahara flows 
Fountain, and dawn herald 

All heaven’s rupture of twinkle 
Little fogs, stars, and mint snowflakes


Your hands, your eyes, your mouth
Your hope, your will are all I have 

There are no other chances that 
I live, 
And, if not 
But 
With you

My life for you
Alone for
You.

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I breathe you

Day and night I long to touch your hand
and see the shade of your hands. How
those hands would turn red while I press
every finger and thumb locked into mine;
If only your hands…

The sky has took you in - faceless as I am
I wonder how you'd shave the beard in your jaw,
how you'd trim the mustache close to your lips,
how you'd smell the fragrance of my neck,
how your eyes like agates would look at me now.

I crave your lips, your tongue, the air of your mouth.
I wish they would touch, riotous, if sea and sky!
They merge in space with swift glory,
after the tombs fall.


My grief is solemn as white water
because you are everything to me
Seething flesh, handsome imagination
Different rocks and hues

How would you take me then -
if my times were chips that crashed?
if my bliss were only shadows and clouds?
if I were faceless?

I have longed for you as I have promised
waiting in seconds, hours, and years…
Every day, I've pleaded
and that is all I can be -
faceless like the sky.

I breathe you.
I breathe you in the moon and stars
I breathe you in the shrouded skies
I breathe you.

I breathe you -
Swift and loud like thunder, I'd come,
faceless, I'd come,
Love in the holy hours of dazzling Flame. 

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Barred walls real as cloud frames on sky
Door free and open as fields that grow
Wind blowing dust on pavement gray
And chains on feet to ground below.

Must I die now? Do I dare so?
My heart, speak not! My mind, shout go!
Dare the woods and trail of thorns
No coming back, breathed holes in trough.

Every leap, time seething by
Umber wet; bones scald in marrows
Heal threads of seas - You and I
Catching snows and flowers on mouth.


When are you just coming back?
How many all, stars I've counted?
Mounted on breasts, navel and spirit
My flesh, arrows spiked tombs and fane.


Incandescent fire and tender bliss
Know I live only for a time:
As a wick fades, my flesh ends
And next, a yellow sunset fence.

Seeds grow in umber fanes gold
Hands, waves on shores not weary up
Only human, I am so, un-god
Of myth, limbs so frail, nailed gravity.

Succulent fruit of red and after
Mind drifts impure, feculent thief;
Vines that crawl like serpent beasts
Thy sword, Saint Michael, in your fist!

O Holy God, Almighty One,
I search your light, Thy will be done
If after all, I must complain
Take all away, but You remain. 

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YOU

I remember you, in ways that are invincible
In ways that are sleek and frail -

In those times that haunt
In those times of fleeting presence
That tick of time
Your heartbeat was mine.

I remember you
In every word you said
My memory traces your smile
You lips, your tongue
Your neck, how it bore loneliness -
And the laughter in your throat

How you held love, when love was bruised
How your arms touched swollen shafts of rust...

I remember you all those times waiting for dawn
While we longed for each other.

Maybe you were with me
Maybe you were not
But we were one -

And in the 'Anima Christi, '

'Soul of Christ, sanctify me
Body of Christ, save me
Blood of Christ, inebriate me
Water from the side of Christ, wash me
Passion of Christ, strengthen me
O good Jesus, hear me
Within your wounds, hide me
Suffer me not to be separated from you
From the evil one, protect me
At the hour of death, call me
And bid me come to you, 
That with your saints
I may praise you forever. Amen.'

I remember you - 

Hard enough.

Here -

Our love thrives…

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RAIN

Rain is my teardropp from sky’s glass castles
From heaven it comes to your hands, it slides
It lets you seek white clouds and up the sky
Brush lashes, wipe eyes, each time you cry

Rain reminds you of a Great God, who cares
It lets you feel my love, it whispers nigh
How I adore, I keep your every kiss
In my heart, when it rains, our love’s a bliss!

Rain, drops in the fields in time of sorrow
Fill hearts with hope now and tomorrow
Wash white as snow, tender, pure and fragrant
The angels chant in the drum strings of rain

Rainbows form; magenta, pink, and blue
Connecting valleys, cliffs, and mountains
Splatter in river, shred showers of falls
A baptism sudden in the dessert, calls

Rain, rain, let cradle your tired day
I think of you, my life, in every way
And when things come and seem to be unfair
Let raindrops fall, your tear is mine to bear

Rain, rain I love you more, when it rains
When together we’d hold like roots and lighting
When together we’d hug like torrents,
You and I; one sweet rain from God’s heart. 

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69. FOR YOU

After a series of litanies, I am ready to die.
I am holding those things that will only suffice
For a day, after one journey over
No food, only a few drops of liquid to wet my throat
No movement inside my body. In me frozen.
Maybe, near death -
When the lights were on, the air went cold
The doors banged the walls
Latch and locks opened just in wars;
And darkness brushed our seats numb in fright!
Ah death, may be near
The archer next to me, guards like St. Michael
His hands were swift and strong
But no feelings, like in war
My fingers numb too, no shivers, just palms
Waiting for God's mercy and flame.
I could cry a flood of storms
But no, we have all struggled here
That old woman with a box, is a dragon
Her son, a monument of young blood
Her daughter, meek of heart
And the rest, holding on to an angel's promise.
I couldn't close my eyes; eye and soul open
In the night, heart beating fast, mind awake
Hands clasping and counting hours until dawn, in
The hour of bliss and grace.
Train 69!
I could remember the wails in Hondagua
When doors were locked and windows closed
And now - everything in the open
Snakes and terrorists might bite and bomb
But then, in the hand of the archer
I felt safe. But then, I couldn't lay my head for comfort.
Even in my last breath, as I could still hold my packs in
danger: No sleeping because my husband is waiting.
Honor for God is honoring a vow
Even in the most trying times, even near death
Like soldiers fighting for a country
Like brothers fighting for truth
Like marriage, untainted in grace
I shouldn't be the one; I am not the one worthy
Of these promises - I like to leave my cause
The agonies are horrible - but I must take the last train
I am boarded for this trip, and so, I have to go.
Weak knees, but daring heart to take an arrow
The archer with me - until I fall…
St. Michael, pray for us.
St. Hannibal, pray for us.
St. Peter, pray for us.
St. Benedict, pray for us.
Mama Mary, pray for us.
Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, we trust in you.
And so the Father of all, comes in prayers

C

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S:  

PAINTED

TEXTS

Maybe, red ocher is the color of
Theology. Or blue as your shirt and
boots. Down rolls a canary wing
draping a stage, like curtains between

now and tomorrow. Your kiss is my
benevolent utopia, down my navel,
a sting like mint, and mine is pressed
pink between your loins. We are full

of love. Our ferry cannot drown, it rows
dancing suns, shafts of untarnished twilight
and a rainbow after bliss of drizzle.
Love gathers - dug in generations of

transient hues. 'I miss you badly! ' I send
on my phone, 'I miz you.' Nights leave me
cold without your thighs and more empty
pillows. I drift to where you are, where acres

of trees grow clad in silver and gold
nectar, whites and orange. My words peak
glints of white light, a purple book etched by
Ratzinger, shades of dear ones, halos of

Saints and martyrs, fireworks of elusive
time blazing fire and tongues, reeling
constellations of roses and amazons,
bulk of history flourishing bright green.

Our ancestor's sturdy night graves' watch
over, as black bulls of science must obey.
I wait along pavements of fourteen stations;
I wait along trails of skulls, in Nazareth.

I wait down fields of earth, on blessed
mountains, on a plinth, only the angels see.
Our hearts wondrous adventures whisper a
prayer, placid then shifting a brilliant crimson
etched on sky above. Have you ever thought
my smiles are memories of your colors?

Have you ever thought my nights and days
are shades of you? Hearts of red, God paints
blood; bleeding drops of red, brush in me
One Sacred Heart - brush in me.! Brush in me

that immortal color of Him. In the red ocher
temple, I stay. Don't delay, please...

Be home soon.

'Kirye eleison. Kirye eleison.
Christi eleison. Christe eleison.
Kirye eleison. Kirye eleison.'

'I miz you badly!
I really, really miz you! '

Sends my message, paints my heart.

'Luv u, baby! ' 

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To the library, I go, station by station.  

You, peak of my dreams.  

Those pigeons come to gather around my terrors, and for a time, say hello, daring on my palm, swift, ascending for a next flight.

I sit in the park, waiting for your call.  My phone is dead, as your voice far and away.

“I’ve tried to hitch, Baby –“   become a flowering shrub like althea – but that isn’t just me; because I rake fire, kneel side by side with the sun or just stay a plain blade of grass.

A monument of mountains, St. Jude in my pouch, that winter, facing all the seasons of the earth, I face empty graves, most beautiful to make love.  I mine every corner of katakana and kanji.

“So where are you?”

Sparkling shops of wedding gowns in front of dull pavements glazed with ice - an elegant silk for a dress razing my guts, a crow burrowing a steeple, posts lighting one by one - 

Wither our promise?

“Never stop,” my footsteps tell me.

“Just don’t  stop…”

Shadows start to peep, night burns the afternoon, sinuous wind blowing from the ground,

I run -

My socks seem just so heavy.

I run; I run - for the next ride -

My heart has, yet, to catch on the subway.

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VIETNAM

Today I was in Vietnam and
together, I sat beside everyone
beside you, beside you, beside you

and then in an empty corner.

How excited, I sipped a cup of
tea, cracked petals in my tongue,
red berries in my mouth

and then in an empty corner.

I rode the bike, but you had to drive
because my Dad said, 'Be careful with
your hymen.' And so, I never learned
how to ride the bike alone -
you had to drive for me all the time.

And then in an empty corner…

I wondered about your stories
You - were exciting!
Your thighs were strong when you kicked
your arms, muscled at work

your eyes - were the only eyes I'd die for.
I said 'Love hurts…'
And you laughed, 'Does it cut like a knife? '

And then in an empty corner…

All - I wanted was that empty corner
and when we made promises together.
I gave you my heart in that empty corner;
you swooned for it. We read.

Like angels fly, after the war,
all is free. Like waiting for a bus,
a long line of pleas and the face of a lover,
engaged and married, a joy of bells!

Let me kiss your hands now, like you
were holding beads of stars. How I
pray, God would bless every moment
of your praise.

Today, I was in Vietnam
and then in that empty corner…

I said - You complete me.

Those beads in your hands set all free
And then in an empty corner...

I said - I love you.

'Oh, Thanh Hannibal, pray for us.
Send O Lord, holy apostles, into Your church.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, we trust in you.' 

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Seriously, Dear God -

In what place and time, did you nail me?
In what words, would you want me to
speak your truth? In what acts, would
you want me to manifest your will?

Forgive my little understanding that
couldn’t comprehend your glory.
How great you are! How loving you are!
How merciful and kind! Now hold a

child that grows old...Look at me, gaze
into my eyes! Hear my complaints, know
my wishes! Make me strong in zeal!
Let me understand, I long to see -

your face - And how, every moment I
desire your love. And so dear God,
I am flesh – frail and wanting. Life,
seethed and culled; love, grown and scald.


God show me now, what’s best to do;
how I could live my life for you.
And as time passes quickly, make me
thrust dear Father, light and beauty -

In your grace, in your mercy - prayers!
And what’s inside our hearts aflame.
Glide me like birds up blue sky so high
Evanescent life, with you be nigh.

God grant - your Holy Spirit, fill
move hearts with zeal, live life with thrill.
Bleak days of tests and drought, be gone
Dare thunder out, and chores be done.

My dearest one God, and Father of
the Universe, come dear - to us all!
Sweet love and fun, thy Kingdom, stay!
Scarred hands of time be healed, I pray.

Most Sacred Heart, my light, my love!
When drops of red, the deep sea sobs
I understand, those tides, your kiss
Most Sacred Heart, your love, my bliss! 

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Tomorrow I will be hanged.
I woke up, physical urgency has to go
A picture of Golgotha
To Trinity be praised
My blood, water to arid mesh
Brushed, perfumed my breath
Tomorrow, after today it will be done
Washed my hands, foamed untouched
Because tomorrow, I will ascend
Lined pillows like jets
From the sepulcher of mind
Checked locks and loops
My agonies long offered for you
Then hot water in a cup, for one
Will reap fields of golden pears
Sat for a while, and folded knees in front Jesu and Hannibal
My bequest -
Tomorrow, after today, I will be a different person
Might be late, bustled like a horse
And now in my summit
Some plaster on my ankle, slip feet into flip flops, legs into dark denim pants
And in my last remaining days - will be daring seventh tides
A blue ring on thumb, and one more sapphire
August beats your heart and mine, in one arrow, pinned in God's collar. 

Send O Lord, holy apostles into Your church!

PRAYER FOR VOCATIONS

Spirit of eternal Love, who proceeds from the Father and the Son,

we thank You for all the vocations of apostles and saints which have enriched the Church.

Continue, we pray, this work of Yours.  Remember when, at Pentecost,

You descended on the Apostles gathered together in prayer with Mary, the mother of Jesus,

and look upon your Church which today has particular need of holy priests,

of faithful and authoritative witnesses of your grace; she needs consecrated men and women,

who show the joy of those who live only for the Father, who  make their own the mission and the offering of Christ, who build up in charity the new world.

Holy Spirit, eternal Spring of joy and peace, it is You who open the heart and the mind to the divine call;

It is you who make effective every impetus towards good, towards truth, towards charity.

Your “inexpressible groans” rise up to the Father from the heart of the Church,

which suffers and struggles for the Gospel.  Open the hearts and minds of young men and women,

so that a new flowering of holy vocation may show forth the fidelity of your love,

And all may know Christ, the true light come into the world to offer to every human being

the sure hope of eternal life. Amen

Blessed John Paul II

/ 20 lovepoems in February by rose flores martinez; Rosevoc 2014.