bus ride
a chilly night
and the cold, hard cement
and perhaps last week’s paper
or some old box
that’s all that they have
and back at home
i had
more blankets
and pillows
than i could use in a week
what’s after victory?
and the plans that were carefully laid
had already materialized
and satisfaction was gained
what happens to the hand that
idled
after it touched success?
jigsaw puzzle life
and one by one
… piece by piece…
i’m being made whole again.
by the same hand that created
my jigsaw puzzle life.
Why Does Heaven Cry, Father? (and) Why Don’t You Cry, My Daughter?
And… If he can,
why can’t I?
And my comfort is with every drop
that comes from your heart.
now only a whisper
once, it was her language
that every creature understood
once, there was a time
when every poem that was written
was written without words.
Wee
binyag ng aking wordpress site.
maligayang pagdating.
pramiz, seryoso na ang mga susunod na post.
