Turn around. Continue reading
It’s been barely a day since the rebel group, now considered as terrorists, have brought horror on Marawi City in Mindanao, Philippines. Yet, instead of empathizing, we Filipinos find ourselves back into our old selves: in-fighting, back-biting, pointless and shameless criticisms and blames hurled towards one another.
Every now and then, a dissenting voice calling for prayers squeaks on social media. Every now and then, a misdirected angry voice stirs trouble again, reviving the old ugly cycle.
There’s so much we can accomplish if we stop antagonizing each other and focus on working together. Our bickering won’t help our fellow Filipinos in Marawi. Continue reading
Just another poem to vent out some of soul sediments. Continue reading
My personal humble tribute to all the struggling street peddlers of romantic gestures during Valentines Day. Continue reading
I stared at the ceiling. I like looking at the little holes— a corkboard sky of inverted starlights, office dust for phosphenes; and on rare occasions, wayward ceiling debris fall like shooting stars.
But what I really like about staring at the ceiling is how everyone becomes a bit more hesitant to approach me. This illusion of thinking, of introspection, of go-away-I-need-some-space not-so-universal gesture we make when we tilt our heads up and get lost, making them wonder what on Earth are we looking at up there. Or maybe not.
Clickety-clackety-cluck, goes the dulled rhythm of several keyboards being tapped, dissonant melodies of a clockwork office routine. Sometimes, an officemate murmurs to someone else; at times, they talk loudly. Too loudly. Cubicle discussions turning into impromptu conferences; but on good days, it does turn into a welcome flash mob of gags and jokes and random angst-turned-into-humor sessions.
On bad days, there’s just silence. No, not peace; just impassive, stoic silence. Continue reading
Just another rainy day/night poem.
I sat beside her bed, hesitant and confused. I loved my mother, yet I didn’t know what to say. I want her healed. I want her restored. I wanted to see a miracle. I wanted for her to be back to normal. I believe in God, in His words, in everything good and wonderful about Him. Yet I stayed there, unable to say anything. It’s one thing to have faith in God’s nature, to believe in everything He is about and stood for. It’s another to trust in His promises— to hope, not just on what’s about to happen, but beyond what’s about to come.
How often do we mistake our wishes for prayers, and how often do we mistake our prayers as hope? Likely, we tend to pray, not because we hope, but because we are about to let go of it. Bahala na, as we Filipinos tend to say. A hopeful faith hiding our hopeless resignation.
We always say we hope for the best, but most of the time, we barely recognize what it is we’re hoping for.
What is it that we’re hoping for? Continue reading