Vulnerability

they say that being authentic is part of life
the pain and the joy of tearing the veil
you hide yourself in is the journey

i am told that being who you are is
being your very own Michaelangelo
sculpting your core out of a mold
society keeps you in

child man lover nemesis
all these facets exist in every
crack and crevice of bottlenecked veins
hanging on to a lifeline

i am told that breaking out of your shell
is an accomplishment in overcoming
the threat of vulnerability

but what is the real threat?

isn't it more fearsome to find yourself
stricken with vulnerability not knowing
what to do with it

or lying naked with an open heart soul
singing and crooning the lullabyes you only sing at night

because fear takes you by the neck and
suffocates you so deep it cuts your throat
without thinking of where your breathe
begins and ends

Bulong

nakatago ang mga bulong ng luha
sa ilalim ng ngiti

hindi mo naririnig dahil ang mga
mata mo'y nakatingin sa isang tabi

nakatago ang tinig ng puso
baon sa limot

hindi maka-tibok dahil
naka-kulong

ang sigaw ng kalayaan
kinakanta nalang sa isang panaginip

A Moment of Grace

As if last Christmas Season's challenges wasn't enough, another one visits my family this week. My dad got hospitalized last Wednesday because of an unidentified infection spreading throughout his body. My dad has never been hospitalized for any sickness in his entire life. The anxiety of dealing with this predicament must be unimaginable for him. I have always sensed his aversion to the helpless feeling that unexplained sickness leaves one with. Watching loved ones hospitalized for the past 3 years and passing on is a wake up call on the reality of mortality.

I have barely gotten over my grandmother's death and my cousin's seizure attack and here I am faced again with something like this. Not to mention the increasing pressure that is picking up in my life at work.

But amidst all these, I am grateful for the peace that has found me today. Through the encouragement of friends. Through the knowledge of God's grace. Through the certainty that miracles happen. Through discovering what truth really means despite of what the facts in this life may say.

The week is over. The day is done. And I find myself finally alone in my room. Struggling less and less with anxiety. Giving in more and more to peace that surpasses all understanding.

I haven't found a lot of time this week to be alone with my thoughts. But this experience reminds me that I can't allow myself to be swept up in too much busy work forgetting what really matters most.

So I end this night with a little ode to my father.

_______________

you wrapped me in your arms
as tight as you can somewhere
in between a struggle of love
torn between a fight that
leaves a wide gaping hole
inside your heart

you hold on for the last 60 years
to everything you know
only to find that reason or
intelligence cannot explain
the mystery of what you're going
through today

so tonight i pray for the letting go
of strength you tried to keep up with
so that you will receive the only
strength you need in this moment of grace
and find that in letting go of all reason
a miracles shines upon your face.

I Need Words

i need words to wrap around me
like a veil of flowers blooming
like a ray of light piercing
through a cozy empty room
like the softness of a couch
with cushions overflowing
from the upholstery and the pillows
where my dreams can softly croon.

i need words to wrap around me
like a journey that's been waiting
to be traveled without stopping
without fearing the tremor
of something new.

i need words to carve out the hidden story
that's been waiting to be told
over coffee, over wine, over food
like shoelaces i want to tie
on worn out sneakers that's been dried
i need some words to break the silence
in this pregnant dreaming life.

The Little Corner Home

It was 5 years ago when I tried to tell stories through images..

Over time that part of me has been quietly stashed away because of duties, obligations, survival. for the past 5 months, i've been attempting to unearth it again. and this is one of those attempts that marks the milestone of taking the time to perceive life through different eyes.

_________

Cooped up in this little office space for almost a year. I can't imagine how I've managed to work without being empowered to have a decent table. my desk serves as the end of a long table that's build for one person. my belongings are squeezed into a space just enough for all. i've been expected to build businesses and grow leaders from this little corner. but no matter how tight and cramped it's been, the cozy comfort of art and the little light of grace has made this space a home.

On Feelings

i have always been wary about feeling now

but i've always been attached to it somehow
always wondering if i can escape it
or if it will eternally imprison me

but over time i have learned to sit with
discomfort
uneasiness
tension
and a whole lot of
struggle

because i believe that with every
impulse a layer is peeled
a wound is healed
and feelings will be
okay to breathe
again.

No Fire Extinguished

The other piece of my soul hands me this photograph today with his very indignant buzzing on the instant messenger. He's been trying to get his groove back into the artflow as I am while the other half of this piece of my soul has flown to London.

On to the artflow.

This picture was taken last September. My recent visit to Cebu led me back to The Cebu Cathedral Museum. In my 31 years of being an island native, I wonder why in the world I never got around to visiting the place. But it's never too late for rediscovery.

This shot is Javi's and I do not exactly know why he took this shot but I can only assume or sense given what I know of him. Out of the ordinary locations of something ordinary catches his eye. From the array of museum collectibles this hangs in stark contrast. The dirt and the dust probably caught some fleck of sunlight giving it a rustic beckoning of something old. Perhaps old enough to hold some story.

I am provoked to wonder about what story it holds.

So...on to the artflow.

it hung on a wall that's been scarred for centuries
neither of us knew it's place on the page of history
a museum in a town that's been absent
because of overgrown buildings towering
over the landscape that made it what it was now.

the ancient walls with cobwebs on a ceiling's corner
became a mark that spelled neglect
and it was this unknown hour
i decided to capture a part of what wasn't select

not the benches that were carved out of mahogany
or the antique statues that commanded respect
not the pillars that aged three hundred years over
no it wasn't what i wanted to get
from this visit i wanted to know
if old stories are kept and stored
the way they have been remembered
is it exactly how it happened before?

but the woman ranted on and on
without knowing what the story's song
sounded or played in some memory's ear
and all i could do was gaze at this red tank hanging
on the faded wall it was hanging
on the unscrubbed
peeling
supposedly
whitewashed
walls
what was it doing
so awkward in that
place they called
sacred

who held it last and how many
fires had it put out?
what part of history was burning
when fumes needed to be extinguished?

what kind of mind
would think of
burning a fragment
of his story?

or what kind of passerby would
strike to keep it lit?

no fire needs extinguishing
if it knows where to burn.