abo sa dila

May iniisip ka? Oo. Ano? Ayaw kong sabihin. Baka magkatotoo.

Dahil makulit ka
Kilala kita. Oo, ikaw 'yun: Nagkasalubong na tayo minsan, sa LRT, sa Gotohan, sa kanto ng Aurora at Katipunan. Nagkatinginan tayo. Hindi mo ako kinausap, pero alam ko, nakilala mo rin ako. Kaya ka narito, di ba? Para sabihing, Oo, oo, ikaw nga 'yun. Naaalala kita.
O, ha, Plurk, o, ha!
Radyo? Radyo?
Libreng humirit

Mag-exercise tayo tuwing umaga
Tambay ka muna
Lokal Kolor
Ano'ng hanap mo?
Basa lang nang basa
Tropa ko

    na, mula noong 24 Enero, 2006, ang nakitambay dito

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Dear 2009, hello. It’s 11:50 p.m., December 31st, and in ten minutes I will go out of this room and walk on the gunpowder-laden streets of Manila and think of something to say to you. Shall I begin by telling you that tonight it rained? Tonight fireworks tore water from the sky and as the rain fell along with it spiralled a feather. Feathers, many feathers. Or stray scraps of unburnt firework-wrapper, but no matter, 2009, tonight it rained and the many wounds my streets hold so dear healed with the colors blossoming in the night-sky. Still there are more ghosts to drive out, and still the devils with their small voices whisper from their corners, but no matter; I live in a country that never runs out of fireworks, of wakefulness, never empties its pockets of promises: I will wear my old clothes more often, 2009, and I will climb every staircase I see and I will offer a poem to every child who asks me for coins.  I will press my cheek against more mountains, and I will whisper a secret to every tree, and I will sift through the rain for the spaces that cradle silences. It is raining, 2009, and already the first street-sweepers are casting their shadows on your first lampost-lit morning, whispering their first prayers, their first downcast promises. I am sharing this with them, 2009, with every lifting of smoke, with every distant echo, the last breaths of a year weighed down by its own luminosity: Tonight it rained, and as I lean into you, into every flicker of light, into this particular birthing of time, let me mold a basin out of my mud-laden heart, and use it to catch the sound of a lone feather touching ground. 


posted by mdlc @ 12:39 AM  
  • At 2:00 AM, Anonymous Aisa said…

    Happy new year. :) Good luck on your resolution.

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