The Night is Full of Stars

The night sky is full of stars tonight
And in their shadows, I remember you.
The turn of your head,
Slight curve of your nose,
That engaging smile,
And lying eyes.
The night sky is full of stars tonight.
And just like that,
I remembered why
We said goodbye.

Sparkling waters glitter in the dark
Quiet waves seduced by the wind
They’re calling my name.
My name. My name. My—
There’s no use to examine
The no’s and the why’s.
For right now the echoes overwhelm
And the past overrides the longings.
A drop slides down the leaf
Eager to follow the beckon of the wind.

Snowfall

I hope you find my soul shining

Like I see yours.

Glowing with life and laughter

A mere smile lights up the floor.

Do you know how beautiful you are?

Like snow falling slowly

On my knitted wrapped hand.

While cold wind makes my face red

And joy fills my heart.

I wish you could see from my eyes

How I see you.

Like wishes and dreams come true

Your sunlight peaks through the storm.

A pit-a-pat staccato of sighs

And you melt the darkness inside.

You’re a wonder you know.

Come a little closer and make me

Warmer.

Jane of the Shadows: Chapter 5 -- The Planning

Once, when I was ten years old, I unknowingly got myself lost in the forest behind our farm house. It was the middle of winter and everything got dark quicker. I was bundled in my father’s old hunting coat and my hand-me-down booths which were so thin that as soon my feet started to feel heavy because of the cold which seeped into them. I was only planning on gathering fire sticks and some winter berries, but as my inherent bad luck would have it, I took the wrong turn somewhere and got lost.

For hours I forced myself to walk—to find my way back home. I was scared of the sounds coming from the dark. One part of me was convinced that I was going to die in that place. Especially when I passed by a mark that I made for the third time. I knew no one was going to come to my rescue. I couldn’t even ask for help. All I could do was cry quietly and imagine the worst.

She was probably glad that was out of the house. Maybe she even prayed that wild animals would kill me. I wouldn’t put it pass her.

But just when I thought that there was no hope—that I was finally going to die—I saw a faint light. Then it started getting bigger and bigger. Until, finally, I recognized it as a light from a torch. Soon I saw the shadowed face of my father filled with worry. He kept on turning his head and calling my name. I cannot fully explain the joy that I felt then. Even though she beat me later that night for getting lost, I couldn’t forget the feeling that I had when I realized that my father—my stepfather—came for me. I think that was the time I’ve fully decided that he’s the most important person in my life.

That feeling that I had then, it was almost the same lurching joy that I felt when I realized that Grey was there again. To talk to me.

Calmly You Lie

You smile as your heart breaks
For the things you
Can't do
Can't say
Can't show
How are you?

Do you still breathe easy?
Calmly, you lie
I'm fine
I'm okay
I'm good
And then you smile.

Young Cruelty

Oh, what cruelty is this?
Our children born of love
Grow up to hate and
Instead of shaking hands,
They are shaking their heads
As they whisper on each other's ears:
Who's the loser?
Who's the weakest link?
Who's the boy
Or the girl
They would take out
During cafeteria break?
A few winks.
A terrible echo of malicious laughs.
A click.
BOOM.
Another young life gone.

#RM

Don't Call Back Anymore

I heard you last night
You called our house.
You called my mom.
You talked to my dad.
But you didn't ask for me.
Why?

Are you afraid
I won't want to
Talk to you?
After what you've done?
Maybe yes.
Maybe, no.
The crazy thing is
I still miss you.

Jane of the Shadows: Chapter 4--The Rider

It was almost day-break when my Mayor came back to the inn. Fortunately, by that time, I had already finished cleaning myself with the help of one of the innkeeper’s daughters who was either too naïve or too simple-minded to understand what had happened to me.

All she asked when she saw the bloody mess that was my dead child was, “Is it that time of the month, mam? I’d be! You be one of those gals who bleed a lot, eh?”

I just nodded at her which almost made me faint with the pain. I was just thankful that the girl didn’t mind talking to herself while she pocketed my coin—a bribe I gave her for her time and help. I called her when it was almost three o’clock but she still cheerfully entered my room. Thank goodness that she’s a late sleeper. I know this because I heard earlier when she was talking to someone in the common room that her father often left her in night duty for late visitors since she had trouble sleeping. And possibly for guests like me who encounters emergency late in the night.

“I’ll bring you clean linens if you want, mam. We seen this kind of emergencies before so I told my ‘Ma we should be ready. Yes, mam. Ready we are. I’ll also brung you some of the drink my ‘Ma makes for me monthlies. Would you like that?”

Jane of the Shadows: Chapter 3--The Learning

I don’t know how long I slept afterwards. The room was soaked in the smell of blood, hot as an oven, when I next opened my eyes. My body felt heavy, like it’s been ripped apart—and maybe it has been. My eyes kept closing as I didn’t have enough strength to keep them open. My mouth opened and closed—unable to articulate the pain that still lingered in my body.

Squeaks and growls. I was vaguely aware that they were coming from me.

My Mayor was still outside, just as I wanted.

Oh, God. I needed to move. But it…was so…hard.

Suddenly, the image of Grey flashed beneath my eyelids and I remembered his request—Kill my stepfather. It was obvious that he hated the man.

I understood hate. Hate helped  me live through the hell which was my life.

Jane of the Shadows: Chapter 2--The Road

I have learned that I do not like driving. In fact, I’ve fervently wished that I am the witch they call me I am so I could probably fly to the port rather than drive through the treacherous road southward.

My body hurts. Doubly on the areas where my Mayor’s hands held me a little too tight. Frightened of my leaving, he used me a little too hard before he allowed himself to drive me out of that miserable little town where I was born. He’s insisting he would drive me to the port. I do not like it. I want him gone.

But I didn’t try to dissuade him especially since I’ve discovered that my body does not agree with this long journeying. I ache. How I ache. Mostly on my bottom and my lower back. So I’ve decided to use him as much as he could be of use. Indeed, I question in hindsight my initial plan of having him drive me only to Wiltshire. I was too naïve and nice.

I told myself I would start using people, but there I was freeing a willing slave. It’s a good thing he hates to see me go. Poor, poor man. His appetite had brought him so low that now he would rather lick my feet than see me go.

When I imagine leaving him by the port, I find that the image… satisfies me. More than his warm touches and possessive kisses, the idea of leaving him broken buoys my spirit.

Oh, how I like this new me.

But enough about my lovely Mayor.

I am writing this, reader, to tell you of that miserable rider we happened upon two nights ago at a rugged posting inn.

He looked like a mean man. I do not remember much of his visage, but I remember that he frightened people as he passed by.  This made me curious about him. As I sat there at the farthest corner of the common room, eating my stale soup and dark bread, I stared at him.

I must have been staring at him for a long time, for slowly, as if he was looking for someone, he turned and scanned the room until his eyes fell on mine. I did not look away. No. I do not do that anymore. Remember, I have learned the power of my stare.

Jane of the Shadows: Chapter 1--The Beginning

Wattpad link: CLICK HERE

My inability to speak. My ability to scare people just by being. These things made me a creation of the Shadows. One can even argue that I am part of the shadows.

No. I do not exaggerate. I merely say these things because I am tired of knowing but not accepting.  I am good at that, too. Denying things. That I may call myself “normal” though God knows I am anything but. Besides, I do not want to be normal.

Normal… is so boring, isn’t it?

I’d rather stand on where I usually stand. Staring at people and making some uncomfortable. Swerving off unwanted attentions with my dark, almost black, eyes—Witch’s eyes my father used to say. He hated my eyes, my father. The same way she hated me. Well, I learned to live with it.

I learned to hate them back.

Where Are My Poems?

Where are my poems, I say?
Words I picked up from here and there.
They keep on skipping,
Dancing around and beyond.
Skipping, skipping, skipping
Making me run after them
As if creating is not hard enough.
Come back, you!
I say, come back!

The Virtue of Silence

I always tell my younger sisters and brother that there's a virtue in silence. Especially when there's an argument at home. I tell them there's no use agitating an already agitated situation by spouting angry words that would probably exacerbate an already bad situation. This is something I practice most of the time.

Sometimes, too much.

It's why I make people nervous.

There's a saying in our house that one could determine how angry I am by my silence. If I'm still talking, then they could still make fun of me and coax me into a good mood. If I'm not speaking, then it's the proverbial hell to pay. It's mostly true, actually. I'm physically unable to speak when I'm mad. And I'd probably have this dark, dark aura surrounding me--or an almost visual smoke coming out of my head. I guess I'm the person which proves the expression "stewing in silence." I do that a lot.

It's not that I get angry a lot. Usually, I have this protective mind barrier which allows me to not care about whatever people say or do which has caused many people to call me a "robot" or sometimes "tin man" or simply "heartless." I just don't react. I mean, I don't have to, right?

But it's a different thing altogether when I'm with people close to me. It's probably because my barriers are usually down with them and a simple thing could make me an "angry bird" like my sister calls me. Note, I don't really get close to people a lot or very fast. Unless there's a buffer (like my siblings or my close friends), it usually takes me a year to five before I actually open up to a person. And that is if I like you.

If I don't... then I'll be very nice to you.

Oppressed and Depressed

the most oppressed n depressed child is the eldest daughter

— mehru (@mehrunlsa) January 28, 2019

I was randomly browsing the net when I came upon the post above this morning just a few minutes after I woke up. Still half asleep, it took my braincells a few minutes to process the whole thing until I verbally voiced my reaction: YES.

Oh, yes.

Being the eldest and a daughter at that, I've felt this my whole life. It's an albatross around my neck, a baggage on my back, the stamp of who I've been my whole life.

The eldest daughter. The unpaid nanny. The little maid. The role-model. The absorber of the punishments. The default shield against bullies. The organized one. The planner. The often-taken-for-granted right-hand (wo)man. The invisible help. The first receiver of bad news. The strong one. The resilient one. The third parent.

The progeny who's supposed to be a mini-adult by the time she reached five.

Not that being eldest doesn't have its perks. But like Uncle Ben said to Peter, "With great power comes great responsibility." Only in my case, most of my life, the responsibility mostly outweighed the illusion of power.

As early as four years old, I was already taking care of my little sister who was two years younger than me. By the time I reached five, I had two charges. It was, simply put, hell. I was constantly reprimanded whenever they were crying or they made a mess. Or if they won't stay quiet. Seriously, I don't remember a lot of things when I was very young, but one thing that stuck to my mind was that I had to make sure my two younger sisters were behaving or I will be punished severely. I felt that no one was on my side, then. My parents were stressed out so, in effect, I was absorbing all their bad humor. Many times I wanted to run away. I wanted different parents. I wished we weren't almost poor. Plain and simple, I hated my life.

In Depression, Call Out to Jesus

When you reach a certain age, you can't help but look back and do a very thorough, lens-magnified criticism of the things you did and the things you have not over the past so many years of your life.

Have I done this? Should have I done that? I was so stupid for not doing that. For doing that.

God. I wish I were a very different kind of person.

Lately, a friend sent me this article about what psychologists call "Quarter Crisis." It's basically "mid-life crisis" but it's for the twenties and the thirties. Our contemporaries. After reading the article, all I could tell my friend was, "Why is this so true?" and "It's so depressing that I'm depress like this." It was a commiseration between two almost burnt-out twenty-somethings. But after that nighttime online talk, I woke up the next morning thinking, "I should do something about this!"

It's not that I haven't done anything about it. The problem was, I had trapped myself into a routine. Even though I'm not the most interesting person to have around, when I was in college, I used to dream and make sure I acted on that dream. But over the years, so many things have happened--we lost our father, we reached rock-bottom financially, I struggled to "hold the fort" as the provider, we moved to another country... so many things that I would find myself saying again and again, I'm so freaking tired.

So, so tired.

Sa Paglisan Ng Mga Paru-Paro

🔷🔸🔹 🔹🔸🔶

This is one of my earlier works written in my birth country's vernacular (Tagalog) that was published in our school newspaper sometime around 2004. As such, this work may contain some inconsistencies and hints of childish idealism. We ask for your indulgence. Enjoy reading. 

🔷🔸🔹 🔹🔸🔶

“Nakikita mo ba ang mga paru-parong ‘yon, Sum?” tanong ni Herei nanng minsang naglalakad kami sa may hardin ng bahay nila. Nandoon kasi si Kuya kaya nandoon rin ako kasi wala akong kasama sa bahay. “Oo naman,” sagot ko. “Ang gaganda nila ‘di ba? Parang mga maliliit na bahaghari.”

“You’re right. At mas marami pa sila ‘pag kalagitanaan ng summer. Kaya nga gusto ko ang pangalan mo eh…Summer.”

Matalik na kaibigan ni kuya Lemuell si Herei. Mula kinder magkasama na sila kaya nga parang magkapatid na ang turing niya sa’kin lalo pa’t nag-iisang anak lang siya. Pero ako hindi. Ayoko siyang maging kapatid dahil…

“Herei, bakit gusto mo ng mga paru-paro?” tanong ko sa kanya. Nagtataka ako. Ang alam ko, madalas babae ang namamangha sa mga paru-paro, sa kanilang kagandahang ‘di matutumbasan.

“Bakit gusto ko sila? Dahil sila ang nagpapaalala sa’kin ng mga magagandang pangyayaring naganap sa aking buhay. Dahil sila ang gumigising ng kasiyahang minsan ko ng nadama…”

Kasiyahan? Sa mga paru-paro? Bakit ko kakailanganin pa ng paru-parong magbibigay sa akin ng kasiyahan kung malapit ka naman sa ‘kin?  Ikaw lang ang kailangan ko para maging masaya.

“Rei! Iwanan mo na nga yang rabbit na yan! Kung hindi, ‘di matatapos yung project natin!” sigaw ni kuya mula sa loob ng bahay. Nakakainis siya! Ako nalang ang alam niyang asarin.

“Hindi ako rabbit! Palibhasa kasi, ikaw gurang na butiki.”

“Anong hindi rabbit? Tignan mo nga yang ngipin mo! Ang laki-laki! Pang-rabbit na pang-rabbit.” Tapos ay bigla siyang humalakhak ng pagkalakas-lakas.

“Tama na nga yan! O sige papasok na ‘ko—gurang na butiki!”, nakabungisngis niyang sambit sa kuya ko. “O, diyan kana muna ‘rabbit’, papasok na ako sa loob baka lamunin na ‘ko ng kuya mo!”

“Herei! Isa ka pa! Unggoy!” ganti ko sa kanya.

Alam kong narinig niya ang sinabi ko, pero hindi na siya lumingon. Sa halip ay iwinagayway ng lamang niya sa langit ang lahat. Ay Herei…ang pinakamagandang nangyari sa buhay ko ay ang makilala ka.

Magandang alaala. Mga paru-paro.

Bakit ba kailangana bumalik sila? Babalik kung kailan hinihiling mong umalis na sila at nais mo nang magpakalunod sa kalungkutang iyong nararamdaman. Sa kalungkutang dumurog sa aking puso. Sa kalungkutang na tanging katotohanang iniharap sa akin ni Herei…

Kring… kring…