Poems

Chinese

Sensation


English

Laughter

He left me
when he could
no longer stand the laughter

that I gave him
while he begged me not
to keep memories

alive in poems
to hurt myself
and make those
who read

sad. I laughed
when he shared
his life with me
while holding him

to make it easier
and maybe
less painful
to live on.

Laugh! I told
him, but
could not get
his attention.

Laugh! I asked
him, but
he left in
anger.

And left
before he understood
the courage
that held my laughter.


Testimony

The territory of shadows is a petal,
An organic wish, a solidified thought,
An awareness of wind catching fishes,
A gratitude for getting rid of clothes.

With the kind gesture of an evening: low tide and safe,
I am sharing the water with the Hundred Islands.
Floating on the galaxies' reflection,
I float as night sky carves down an embrace,
an elusive feeling of eternity and floating,
a gesture of wind and a bath of moonlight
from the sea bottom. I am the salt in the evening.
I am the celebration of beginnings.
I, finally getting rid of my clothes.
I, weightless, without knowing what.
Between the sky and me is the wind.

There is an ageless consciousness of being a woman.
There is a shapeless idea of being in the water.
There is a testimony of the sky and the earth.
There is no longer the terrestrial truth,
I am no longer a victim of war.

Father and I

The leaves are shaking,
"Look. It's the wind!"
You said, " No, those are leaves.
Wind cannot be seen."

Snowflakes whirl down
- An emblem of purity.
You said, " No, it is deception.
It is here to cloak the filth."

A lovely object
Took my fancy.
You said, "It's Useless."

I haven't walked too far,
But I am feeling tired.
Let me rest by the path for a while.

When the wind blows, I feel it.
When snow swirls down, I see it.
The lovely object I hold in my hand.


Why A Mural ?

I want space - 
a two dimensional space.

To form form and forms
that change , while my arm
sways, my hand holds the brush to play
with the glacial acrylic paints.

Forms that bring back
the balance and rhythm
of xieyi painting
where yin is left in the whiteness
of rice paper, and yang is limned
by the shades of gray and black ink.

A space for the music of painting
where white is not blank but tone
and black is the silent interval
cantata that springs forth from the air
vanishes back
and remains as brushstrokes.

To absorb a process of change
in the gesture of a fearless arm
emotion that moves and grows:
forms being formed to forget
the finiteness of beginnings.

Beside this poem
is a prayer
frozen in the acrylic paints.

Beside this poem
is a mural
- a desire for space.


Filipino

Berso #2

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog.
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay mahulog,
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.

Kung mag-isa ako huwag nang isipin,
Sa dilim ay dapat pa akong hanapin.
Habang may luha ay huwag pang ibigin,
Sa pangarap ko ay huwag nang gisingin.

Kaya kong maghintay sa mga tula mo
Makinig sa awit ng kabilang dako
At tuklasin sa paglalakad na ito
Hamog at luha ng bulaklak at damo.

Mapapanood and sayaw ng tutubi
Mapapakinggan ang ibong humuhuni
Hihinahon ang pusong di mapakali
At hihimlay na sa mapayapang gabi.

Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay nahulog
Parang ang puso ko nga itong nadudurog.


Panibugho

Naunawaan ang hiwaga
sa titig mong umiiwas
kaninang umaga.
Nabasa ang talinghagang
tinago ng sansinukob.
Luminaw ang dahilan
sa nagmamadali mong pamamaalam.
Parang hindi na sasapit ang umaga
sa paninibugho sa dilim.

Buti na lang
hindi naririnig,
ang isip at kalooban
nitong himpapawid.
Hindi rin nakikiramdam
ang butiki sa dinding
sa mga dasal ng aking ligalig.

Ginugunita Kita #2

Marikit na tala ang tanglaw sa dilim,
Sa halimuyak ng matamis na hangin,
Sa gubat ng gabi ay hinihintay ko,
Mga kislap ng nilimot na pangako.

Habang may hapdi ang sugat ng kahapon,
Di maalpasan ang diwang nakakahon,
Inaawit ang kundiman ng pagsinta
Sa dalamhati ng pusong umaasa.

Ginuguni-gunita kita,
Binubuo sa alaala.
Pinapanga-pangarap ka,
Inuukit sa haraya.


Ang Naliligaw

Naliligaw ako sa paglalakbay,
Naliligaw sa kahahanap,
Naliligaw at hindi malaman
kung paano ba makabalik sa Oxford Street.

Naliligaw sa pamamasyal,
Hindi maintindihan ang mapa,
Hindi malaman kung bakit
Nandirito na naman sa Charing Cross.

Kaya umupo na lang sa Trafalgar Square,
Namulot ng balahibo ng kalapati,
Pero tinapon rin dahil mukhang marumi,
Mukhang maalikabok ang pakpak na nahuli.

Umikot na lang sa paligid,
Pinanood ang gusali,
Pinag-aralan ang kilos ng ibang turista,
Umikot at nag-isip, at naisip kita.

Naisip kita at inisip kita,
At bumalik ako sa National Gallery.
Pumunta sa West Wing,
At doon, tumulala ako.

Naliligaw sa kalalakad,
na parang isang feather ng pakpak,
na hindi na makabalik sa ulap,
at hindi na makasama sa paglipad.

Buti na lang naisip ka
sa aking pagkaligaw,
Iniisip na mapapansin mo
ang ulap sa 'yong paglalakbay.

At ninais na isipin ka
habang nakatulala kay Titian,
kay Bronzino at kay Michaelangelo,
at pinili kong isipin ka.

Pinili kong isipin ka,
sa paglalakbay at sa pagkaligaw.
Sa paghahanap ay nadarama ko:
Mahal, mahal na mahal kita.