Ode to Janagdan

Memory of quiet, 
rustle of trees as we tread 
on broken branches and dead leaves
Memory of ravines,
Memory of tell me again,
why did we come here?
Memory of where is the end?
Memory of how far? Are we there yet?
Memory of relief at the sight of a clearing 
small enough to fit five people
Memory of the sound of the wind, 
the feel of it like a cold cloth on our burning skin.
Memory of fog, a gentle song closing in.
Memory of a four-winged creature 
fluttering up the trail with us.
Come with me, it seemed to say.
Come, sit, stay, breathe
Memory of hands touching earth, 
gripping tree trunks for balance, 
heel digging, 
mud on clothes even after an overnight soak,
Memory of heart pounding out of one's chest,
Memory of knees shaking, legs heavy, 
temper flaring, silence.
Memory of finally arriving
Starving, feasting,
story-telling, more laughter
And then,
Memory of
"Yes, I will come back for you again."

Lake Janagdan
Brgy Cabintan
Ormoc, Leyte
April 12, 2017