Skip to main content

Pagkamulat

Pagkamulat
ni Ruby Gamboa Alcantara

Nirahuyo mo ako
Sa idinating mong kabaguhan
Sa buhay ko
Subalit nang masuong ang buo
Kong pagkatao
Naging malamig ang init
Na dati’y kapiling
Ng katauhan mo.

Nilason mo
Ang kaisipan ko
Sa paniwalang ang sa akin
Ay sa iyo at ang sa iyo
ay sa akin.
Ang totoo
Walang para sa akin
Ang lahat ay para sa iyo

Ibinuyo mo
Na maghimagsik ako
Sapagkat tinakdaan mo
Ang hantungan ng aking buhay
Na dapat sana’y nasa alapaap
Ng isang libo’t isang ligaya.

Ibalik mo man
Ang karangyaan ng lumipas
Na kahapo’y malayo nang manaig
Pang muli ang magagandang
Pangarap; malabo na ang mga pangitaing
Sa guni-guni na lamang makasisinag
Ng katuparan.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Phrases for Public Speakers at Sea

by M. B. Powell We ought, first of all, to note her oceanic eyes flecked with sea wrack. And we should pause to consider the wavy wilderness of her damp hair. I will not dwell on her cheeks ruddy under my thumbstrokes. I will not attempt to explain the shapely abalone shells of her ears. I wish to call your attention to the cunning animal of her mouth, muscular. I wish to say something about the mollusky dark language of her kisses. I am obliged to mention her sudden breasts, breaching, rhythmic. And I am perfectly astounded at her finger charting my lips round her nipple. Here, in this connection, let us notice her nipple against the roof of my mouth. Here, in passing, let us observe ...
2 comments
Read more

Low

It's not happiness, but something else; waiting for the light to change; a bakery. It's a lake. It emerges from darkness into the next day surrounded by pines. There's a couple. It's a living room. The upholstery is yellow and the furniture is walnut. They used to lie down on the carpet between the sofa and the coffee table, after the guests had left. The cups and saucers were still. Their memories of everything that occurred took place with the other's face as a backdrop and sometimes the air was grainy like a movie about evening, and sometimes there was an ending in the air that looked like a scene from a different beginning, in which they are walking. It took place alongside a scene in which one of them looks up at a brown rooftop early in March. The ground hadn't softened. One walked in front of the other breathing. The other saw a small house as they passed and breathed. The reflections in the windows made them hear the sounds on th...
Post a Comment
Read more

Caffeine

Because you do not know me, Francezca, you have every reason to be afraid— afraid because, while you are sleeping, I can be the moon, peeping in from out your window like some lonely lunar voyeur, or some rusty blade or kitchen knife when you feel like ending your life with a quick slash or laceration; because, when you wake up, I can be the toothbrush dangling silently in your bathroom, or the forlorn cotton bud preparing to rid your ears of dust and excessive earwax. This is no time to relax, Francezca— I can be anywhere anytime, anyone and anything you cannot even begin to imagine: the whipped cream on your waffle, the mothballs in your closet, the card tag of your tea bag, the jaundiced shade of moonlight, the moon-cake you hate, the steady staccato of rain, the flush’s fecal fouette, the hair inside your nose, your lip, your mole, black hair and brown irises, white teeth and red gums, your scalp, your skin, even your toenails. What is scary, Francezca, is the fact that you don’t e...
Post a Comment
Read more