What is Left

At the height of loss,
When words disappear
And poetry leaves,
All that is left is faith.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Breathe, Grief

Image
My mother She kept everything: Notes handwritten on various paper pads Broken cups, worn-out pillows,  Old handbags,  cracked plates Love letters, greeting cards Curtains made of lace And here I was vacating, creating space One by one, garbage bags piled up "You need space to breathe," I told her She nodded, wordless, unmoving Her limbs weakened by the stroke she suffered just a week ago Her eyes watered in quiet protest Nine years later,  And four years since she passed I understand now This longing to keep things To hold objects, to grasp  As it reaffirms one's life,  that one became real that one truly lived Now I want to take it all back, the things I discarded to  make space for her  to supposedly breathe: Notes handwritten on various paper pads Broken cups, worn-out pillows,  Old handbags,  cracked plates Love letters, greeting cards Curtains made of lace I want to cram the space with everything she kept Leave no space for air So, I can...
Read more

Bayabas (Guavas)

Image
  Bayabas There is enough for everyone The birds and me They peck at the topmost Where my hands can't reach They take only what they need I on the other hand or Perhaps most humans For that matter Take more than what is necessary I'm afraid there won't be Any left-- the sweetness The succulence, The joy of the experience So I want more to ensure I have a stockpile of pleasure Most humans too But the birds, they soar And I with most humans remain Standing on lowly ground.
Read more

The Gift of Grief

Image
As I was doing laundry this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of Garret swinging on the hammock while listening to his music on his portable Bluetooth speaker pressed and Morgan playing happily with his water hose. They're teenagers who have autism. Unlike other neurotypical teenagers who probably are with their friends on a weekend doing whatever it is that teenagers do nowadays, this is what they do. A friend told me recently how somehow them having autism was like never having to lose our babies. As they will always be in a way child-like forever. In a way this is a blessing. In another, it is a kind of grieving, one that churns my insides every now and then as thoughts of what might have been invade my day. I grieve that they could never have a life of their own, meet the love of their life, start a family, make memories and so forth. I grieve that I will never have grandchildren. A few years ago, I wrote about this briefly and said that I don't know what it means. Now, I have ...
Read more