whisper to a scream

Isang silip
sulyap, tingin
ngiting walang patid
kaba’y dama

ligaw
sagot
halik
PUSO

pag iisang dibdib
PUSO

tamis
tikim
talik
PUSO

Isang kisapmata
isang binhi
mula sa isang tibok ng
PUSO

in the dark we held hands
my body asleep next to you
yet my mind in rapid motion
except for the quiet whirring
of a not-so distant machine,
all else is silent.
i heard a sound,
i strained to listen
to what seems to be
a symphonic whisper
a gentle move, an inch closer
in unison
they beat

as a child
you are never used
to the idea
of seeing your folks in
a vulnerable state

except perhaps
if they are gravely sick,
or on their deathbed.

when you’re all grown up

(or at least when you think you are)

you do not want to get used
to the idea
of seeing your father (or mother)
shed a tear

then you ask yourself;
when did it get to the point
of role reversal?

i’ve often read of fairy tales
and stardust
in someone’s eyes
yet I can’t seem
to concoct my own

i’ve spoken of beautiful prose
and dancing words
but it felt
like lies

i’ve heard them
before,
seen them before

i’ve woven myriad
tapestries of deceit
but it was all
the truths
of things
around me

not mine
no

my brother
once said:
‘writing lyrics
to a song
is really easy;
all you have
to do
is create
a poem,
and insert
a few rhyming
words
at the end
of each line’

he said
it was a
no brainer

i said
if it were
that easy
to write poems
then why do
we keep
hearing
revivals
these days?

*With apologies to Ann Packer, author of the book with the same title