Dear Daughter

There is much to learn after reading Cosmopolitan magazine for the first time, and I am already 27 years old. I felt like Rip Van Winkle waking up after a hundred years. But my initial shock of the modern Filipino perspective on relationships has now turned to fear. I fear for you, even though you are still yet only alive in my dreams. I fear for the world you will be growing up in when you would finally be born as my flesh and blood and not merely a vision that floats around in the amniotic fluid of my imagery.
I have quite a good idea of who your father will be, although I would be plagued by uncertainty when I realize how so many differences we have, including perspectives on virtue. I fear even more for you when you would be woman and have your own stories of young love.
The world has changed many times over on how it does romance. I have not really paid much attention to it so my lack of knowledge and experience makes me a most unlikely candidate for expert. I concede to knowing little and idealizing much, which explains why I should be so shocked at what is now reality. This will be the reality you’ll be growing up in and I wonder what you’ll say or do when you are told, “everybody does it.” I wonder if you’ll be like everybody else, because it’s hard not to be like everybody.
We have words for men we’ve dreamed to have in our lives – Romeo, Prince Charming, Valentino. I wonder if you’d still be using these same words or these same images when your time comes. I wonder if fairy tales would have different endings when they are told on your time. Amidst my wondering, I only wish that when there comes a man who would like to awaken your womanly passions so his manly desires may also be met, he would not be like everybody else.
He’d get to know you first, treat you as sister and friend and you’d get to know him as brother and friend without the pretention or pressure of havign to please just to make a conquest. I wish he’d know you so well, when he finally asks to win your heart, he’d be asking to win it so you could be his forever, and with certainty, because he has prayed for you for a long time and God said ok.
I wish he’d tell your father and me of his intentions so that we may know he respects us as your parents and that his intents are pure. I wish he’d still do special little things for you, even if you find them corny. I wish he’d write you love letters even in a time of emails and SMS. I wish he’ll take more effort to ensure that as you fall in love with him, you are falling in love even more with God, rather than demanding your whole attention towards him. I wish he’ll respect you and treasure you and keep you pure, even if he would have to restrain himself with much effort. I wish he wait in taking possession of your body and inviting you to engage in the ritual of making love only after you have both said your vows in front of God. I will not wish that you would someday grow up to be a Cosmopolitan girl. I wish you’d grow up to be a woman of character in a Cosmopolitan world, surpassing your mother, and grandmothers, because your challenges are far greater than ours.
Everybody might think you’re Rip Van Winkle, old fashioned, anti-modern, but then, you will not be like everybody and you will not do what everybody does unless it is right.
I wish.

Pambie Herrerra's Unrequitted 2

UNREQUITED 2

my hope for this love
needs no apology nor renunciation
for my words have fully ransomed
every part of me that remains indebted
to your repose

for my fragile affection
does not require from you
a shared awareness for this hurting

still in the dearth of your movement
i want to hear your whispering form
it may be the slightest hint of refusal
or an absolute abnegation for mutuality

no amount of atonement
not even that of my flesh and blood
can ever pay for this madness
a tumultuous longing
not to be reciprocated
just the delight of hearing you speak

so i stand circling on my syncopated space
waiting for the congruent rhythm of your tongue
stagnant without your initiation
just responding out of respect
for my words which fail to cross
the threshold of your seclusion

let not your lips be unspeaking
if your resolve is to shelter me from ache
of the truth of knowing my unrequited fate
let it whip my deepest bone if it has to
like the truth of the cupbearer's tongue
that cannot elude poison

so that it may save a part of me
that I have yet to give to you without reluctance
even in your final absence of ardor
for this love
that I desolately keep sacred

inside my

tamed box

- pambie, april 12, 2004

Pambie Herrerra in Filipino

PARA SA'YO NA MINSA'Y NAKASAMA KO SA AKING MALAYO-LAYO NA RING PAGLALAKBAY

sanay na ako sa iyong paglayo:
sa iyong malalayang hakbang
tungo sa kahit saan
basta wala ako o ang aking anino

sa mga kalsadang makikipot
upang hindi kita masabayan
sa iyong paglalakad

malayo-layo na rin ang iyong natahak
malayo-layo na para maabot
pa nang aking mga tanaw

minarapat kong hindi na lang sumunod
marahil nga, naakit na akong magpahinga
sa pampang nang umaalimbukay na ilog
o dili kaya'y bumalik na lamang
sa laot ng aking pag-iisa

binagtas ko ang daan pabalik
hindi dahil sa ako'y napagod
o nagsawa sa pagtugis
sa bulong ng iyong maiilap na yabag

kundi masakit ang makita kang malayo
kahit na isang dipang balikat lamang
ang sa atin ay nakapagitan

iyong pakatandaan:
ibig kong baunin mo paalis
ang apoy ng aking sulo
ang samu't saring liwanag
na nilagom ng aking mga mata
itong tungkod sa aking palad
hinga ng aking kaluluwa
na kaakibat ang lahat
pati luha ng aking salita

upang sa iyong pag-iisa
sasalamin sa iyong mga labi
mga ngiti at luha sa paggunita
noong tayo'y minsan ay nagkasama

subalit,iisa lamang ang aking pakiusap
huwag mo na akong pakaisipin pa
ipaubaya mo na ako sa ulan
sa araw... sa hangin... sa tala.

tangan nila, ako'y magpapahingalay
habang iniipon ko ang lakas
para sa bagwis ng aking naghihingalong paa

isang paghahanda:
sakali mang ika'y muling

bumalik pa.

-pambie herrera, setyembre 8, 2004

Paul Muego's Sharing in Payatas

Ang pag-ibig ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw

“I Love You?”
Ang pag-ibig ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw. Pero, ano nga ba ang pag-ibig ng Dios? O di kaya’y mayroon bang pag-ibig ang Dios? Kailan ba natin sinasabing iniibig tayo ng isang tao o iniibig natin siya? Ano ba yung mga sukatan natin? Katatapos lang ng araw ng mga puso. Sabi kahapon sa radio, magdaragdag ng mga pulis at mga tauhan ng MMDA sa daan kahapon para matugunan ang pagdagsa ng mga sasakyan lalu na sa mga lugar na kung saan may mga motel o mga inn o doon sa mga may sabay liko! Pati nga sa may Laong-Laan kung saan ang mga bulaklak galing Baguio ay ibinabagsak ay punung-puno ng mga tao! Lahat bumibili ng bulaklak para sa mga mahal sa buhay. Tapos sasabihin ng binata (at sana nga tunay na binata!) sa kaniyang sinta, “I love you” sabay abot sa bulaklak. Pero eto nga lang ba ang sukatan ng pag-ibig? Gano kaya katagal ang pag-ibig na sinasambit nila? Isang taon? Ilang buwan? O maswerte na kapag umabot ng ilang linggo? Kaya nga andaming mga unwed mothers o mga single parents dahil ang pag-ibig ng kanilang mga kasintahan ay nagmamaliw! Ngayong umaga pagninilayan natin ang pag-ibig ng Dios sa atin. Titignan natin kung paanong ang pag-ibig ng Dios sa atin ay di nagmamaliw sa pag-inog ng mundo, sa paglipas ng panahon.

Manalangin tayo.

Aming mapagmahal at maibiging Ama, ang pag-ibig sa mundong ito ay di gaanong tumatagal – napapagod, nawalan ng init at sigla, depende sa panahon o sa mood, depende sa maraming bagay na nakapalibot sa amin. Kadalasan O Ama na ang aming pag-ibig ay hindi tunay at ganap, na ang ito’y aming sinasambit lamang dahil na rin sa aming mga sariling interes. Maraming pagkakataon na binigo namin ang iyong atas na ibigin ang aming mga kapatid, lalo na ang mga maralita at kapus-palad. Ngunit sa kabila ng aming mga pagkadapa, ng aming mga pagtalikod sa iyong atas at halimbawa, patuloy mo kaming iniibig. Gabayan mo kami ngayong umaga O Dios upang makatagpo ka namin sa bawat isa sa amin na narito. Ipinapanalangin din namin Panginoon ang aming mga mahal sa buhay na sa oras na ito ay di namin kapiling. Ikaw din po ang gumabay sa kanila sa umagang ito at sa araw na ito. Tanggalin mo po Panginoon ang lahat ng makahahadlang sa aming pagsamba ngayong umaga at sa pagbabahaginan namin ng iyong mensahe. Ito ang aming dalangin sa pangalan ng iyong Anak na si Hesus. Amen.

Puno ng Pag-ibig ang Buhay!
Noong isang linggo ay nagpunta kami sa Sitio Banawen, Brgy. Maloma, San Felipe, Zambales. Pagabi na noong kami ay nakarating sa bario. May mga 3 oras din siguro yung nilakad namin sa isang halos tuyong ilog. Napakainit ng panahon at napakahirap lumakad dahil nga sa ang lahar ay tuyung-tuyo. Naglakad kami habang sa paligid namin nakikita namin na pati ang mga baka ay nakasilong. Bahagya din kaming nagpahinga sa daan dahil sa sobrang init. Habang naglalakad kami at sa mga panahon ng pahinga kami ay nagkukwentuhan at pinagbabalik-tanawan ang pakikipaglakbaay ng KKFI sa mga kapatid nating Ayta sa Banawen. Marahil kung ito’y isang gawain lang namin, matagal na naming iniwan ang mga Ayta. Ngunit pabalik-balik kami bilang mga hamak na instrumento ng ating Panginoon upang magpadama sa kanila na hindi sila nag-iisa (at upang madama din namin na hindi kami nagiisa)… na may mga magkakasamang nagsusulong ng isang kaunlarang dapat pinagsasaluhan ng lahat at di lang ng iilan.
Pagsapit ng gabi ay dumaan sa aming tinutuluyang bahay si Tatay Willy. Habang kami’y nakapa-ikot sa apoy at umiinom ng maiinit na kape ay nagpalitan kami ng mga balita at mga kwento tungkol sa buhay-buhay. Panay ang biro ni Tatay Willy kung kayat lahat kami’y tawanan ng tawanan. Sa gitna ng aming pagtatawanan, sabi ni Tatay Willy, “Masaya ang buhay...” Uulitin niya ito ng may karugtong, “Mahirap ang buhay gaya kung minsan na walang makain… pero masaya pa rin.” Sa loob-loob ko, “Ang lalim naman ni Tatay. Parang isang pilosopo.” Ngunit sa totoo lang hindi ba ang buhay ng mga kapatid nating Ayta sa Banawen pagkatapos ng pagputok ng bulkan ng Pinatubo ay isang patunay na ang pag-ibig ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw? Kinaumagahan habang nakasakay kami sa kariton na hila-hila ng kalabaw ni Tatay Willy sabi niya, “Ang aking buhay ay puno ng pag-ibig. Walang saysay ang buhay kapag wala itong pag-ibig.” Ano ba ang ibig mong sabihin Tatay Willy? Hindi nga ba ang patuloy ninyong pamumuhay sa Banawen, ang pagtubo at pamumunga ng inyong mga pananim na mga mangga, kasuy, at mga saging, ang pagsilang ng limang sanggol sa inyong komunidad… hindi ba ang mga ito’y mga himala na nagpapadama ng pag-ibig ng Dios?

Ang mga himala’y tanda ng buhay. Ang mga himala ni Hesus ay tanda ng buhay – buong buhay: pisikal at spiritwal; at tanda din ng di nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios sa atin.

Ang Habag ni Hesus
Patuloy na ipinapahayag ni Hesus ang Magandang Balita (Lukas 4:16-21) sa mga Sinagoga (mga simbahan) kung saan ang mga taga-Galilea ay nagtitipon upang makinig sa pagbasa ng banal na kasulatan at upang manalangin.

Ang taong may ketong ay itinatabuy ng lipunan. Sila’y itinuturing na mga makasalan. Ang kaniyang karamdaman ay kinakatakutan at sila’y kinamumuhian. Naalala ko tuloy yung inteview sa TV sa mga kamag-anak ni Adela Catalon. “Iniiwasan kami ng mga tao. Parang lahat kami may SARS,” ang malungkot niyang wika. Mahirap nga yung tayo’y iniiwasan ng mga tao sapagkat sa kanilang paningin tayo’y marurumi at makasalanan. Ang lalaking may ketong sa kwento ay hindi lamang nakraramdam ng pisikal na sakit. Ngunit ang mas matinding sakit ay dulot ng hagupit sa kaniyang pagkatao ng siya’y itinaboy ng dati niyang mga kasama.

Sa aklat ng Levitiko, ang mga may skin diseases (ke galis yan, o rashes, o simpleng alergy, o di kaya’y ketong) ay kailangang kumunsulta at magpatingin sa mga pari. (Lev. 13:1-2) Hindi upang gamutin sila ng mga pari ngunit para sila’y matatakan: malinis o marumi! Parang kapag pumapasok tayo sa bilangguan para dumalaw o di kaya’y sasalubong sa mga kamag-anak sa airport -- may tatak sa braso para maihiwalay tayo sa iba o para may palatandaang nagsasabi kung sino tayo!

Kung sakaling may ketong ang isang tao, siya’y sapilitang patitirahin sa labas ng siyudad (ang mga bayan nila noon ay may mga matataas na bakod). Hindi lang ito. Sila din ay kailangang sumigaw ng ganito: Marumi! Marumi! Ito’y kailangan nilang gawin upang hindi sila lapitan ng mga tao. (Lev. 13:45-46)

Naalala ko tuloy ang maraming maralita ng lunsod na patuloy na itinataboy dahil hindi daw sila kaaya-ayang tignan. Kagaya na lang noong dumating si President Bush, maraming mga komunidad ng mga maralitang taga-lunsod ang binakuran para hindi sila makita. Sa ganitong sitwasyon paano natin sasagutin o ano ang isasagot natin kapag tinanong tayo ni Mang Juan o Aling Maria na mga urban poor o yung lalaking may ketong sa kwento: “Nasaan ang di nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios?”

Ang lalaking lumapit kay Hesus ng may pagtitiwala ay may ketong: “kung ibig po ninyo’y mapagagaling ninyo ako” (Mk 1:40). Sa verse 41 makikita nating “nahabag si Hesus.” Ang ibig sabihin ng salitang “pagkahabag” ay hindi lang isang simpleng awa ngunit isang malalim na pagtanggap at pagdama sa sitwasyon ng kahirapan ng ketongin. Jesus made the man’s suffering his own. Sa isang iglap naki-integrate si Hesus sa kalagayan ng lalaking may ketong. Sa UP, sa CSWCD, sinasabing “we have to integrate with the poor until such time that their life is aslo our life, their experiences are also our experiences, and their dreams are also our dreams.” Kailangang ang mga manggagawa sa pagpapaunlad ng pamayanan ay maging kaisa ng mga maralita.

Hindi iniwasan ni Hesus ang lalaking may ketong. Sa verse 41 makikita natin si Hesus: “hinipo siya, sabay ang wika, ‘Ibig ko. Gumaling ka!” Sa kaniyang paghipo sa lalaking may ketong, isinapanganib ni Hesus ang kaniyang sariling kalusugan; hindi siya gumawa ng anumang pag-iingat. Naalala ko tuloy yung mga naririnig kong mga kwento tungkol sa mga pulitiko kapag panahon ng pangangampanya. Pagkatapos daw makipagkamayan sa mga tao ay nagbubuhos ng alcohol sa mga kamay upang matangal ang anumang bakas ng maruruming mga taong kanilang kinamayan. Gaano katotoo ito? Ewan ko. Magmasid-masid tayo ngayon dahil tiyak maraming mga pulitiko ang pupunta sa ating lugar.

Ang ginawa ni Hesus ay isang napakagandang huwaran para sa ating nagsasabing mga Kristyano o followers of Christ. Danasin at damhin natin ang kalungkutan, pighati, hapdi at kirot ng puso, katawan at isipan, ang mga sama ng loob ng ibang tao; ginagawa natin silang mga kapit-bahay natin, mga kamag-anak, mga taong malapit sa atin. Ngunit getting close to people, ang paglapit sa mga tao ay maaaring magdulot ng mga problema at kahirapan sa panig natin kung kayat we prefer loving without costs, without risks for ourselves and our own people. Mas gugustuhin natin ang magmahal na hindi natin maisasapanganib ang ating sarili o yung kapakanan natin.

Kaya nga’t enjoy na enjoy ako sa mga kwento ng mga pastor o mga pari na nasa mission areas. Kagaya nung isang kapartner ng KKFI diyan sa Montalban, si Pastor Larry. Mahirap ang kanilang simbahan. Pagpapaayos nga lang ng pinto ng kanilang kapilya ay talagang madugo! Mga pamasahe na nga lang e hirap na ang pastor. Pero patuloy pa rin siyang naglilinkod sa mga taga-Montalban – tumutlong sa mga livelihood programs para sa mga tao, nakikinig sa kanilang mga problema at sama ng loob. Ang mga problema ng mga tago-komunidad ay tunay na nadarama ni Pastor Larry kaya problema na rin niya ang mga ito. At siyempre ang kanilang pangarap ng isang maunlad na buhay ay kaniya na ring pangarap. Di pa ba ito isang patunay na ang pag-ibig ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw?

Ang Masa Mission Center ay nasa ikalawang taon na dito sa Payatas. Ngayon magkakaroon na ng Day Care Center dito. Siguro, ni minsan hindi sumagi sa isipan ng mga kasamahan natin dito na minsan isang araw ay magkakaroon ng ganitong pagtitipon para sa pormal na opening at dedikasyon ng isang day care center sa mismo nilang pamayanan. Ang pag-ibig ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw!


Uliranin si Kristo
Ipinagkaloob ni Hesus ang kahilingan ng may ketong: “Ibig ko . Gumaling ka!” Sa mas malalim na pagsusuri, hindi lang ang ketong ang pinagaling niya. Ayaw ni Hesus na may mga taong itinatakwil ng lipunan. Ayaw ni Hesus, at hindi nararapat sa dangal ng tao bilang mga anak ng Dios na wala silang mga kapwa, tahanan, pamayanan at mga kaibigan. Sa pagpapagaling sa karamdaman nung lalaki siya ay muling isinama sa lipunan. Ang itsa-pwera ngayon ay kasama na! Ang ibinukod ng lipunan ngayon ay kabuklod na ng mamamayan! Ang pagmamahal ng Diyos ay tunay na di nagmamaliw!

Ngunit kung tayo ay nagdiriwang mayroon ding mga taong nagngingit-ngit o nagpuputok ang butsi dahil sa takbo ng mga pangyayari. Ang ginawa ni Hesus ay labag sa batas. Hinipo niya ang isang maruming tao! Ngunit namnamin natin na ang paghipo ni Hesus sa lalaking may ketong ay isang pagpapahayag ng isang malalim na mensahe – ang pag-ibig sa mga hinahamak, kinamumuhian, kinasusuklaman, mga itinataboy ng lipunan!

Ang ating pagtangging ibukas ang ating mga puso sa iba, ang ating pag-abot ng ating mga kamay sa kanila, sa mga mahihirap at sa mga itinatakwil ng lipunan ay isang iskandalo. Ang pagpapatotoo o pagpapatunay lamang ng pag-ibig at kagandahang-loob ang tanging makakaabot sa mga taong ipinapalagay nila ang kanilang sarili at loob na malayo sa Dios (1 Cor. 10:32).

Ang kwento ng Masa Mission ay isang pagpapatotoo o pagpapatunay sa di-nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios. Ang kwento sa likod ng pagtatatag ng isang day care center dito sa pamayanan ay isang pagpapatotoo sa di-nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios. Ang patuloy nating pakikiisa sa panig ng maralita ay isang pagpapatotoo sa di-nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios.

Noong bumibyahe kami patungong Zambales huminto yung bus na aming sinasakyan bandang San Narciso. Sabi nung konduktor na nagkataong nasa tapat ko: “Iihi lang sandali yung driver?” Narinig yun nung isang matandang pasahero. Papunta ng Iba si lolo upang lakarin ang ilang mga papeles dahil may mga dala-dala siyang mga brown envelope. Malayo pa ang Iba kaya gusto rin niyang bumaba para umihi. Ngunit siya ay nagaalinlangan dahil baka siya’y maiwan. Ilang segundo pa ang lumipas at siya’y nakapagpasiya. Bumaba siya at umihi sa ilalim ng isang puno. Nasa kalagitnaan pa lang siya ng kaniyang pag-ihi nung umakyat na ang driver at paaandarin na ang sasakyan. Hindi naman siya makasigaw dahil nasa may kalayuan siya at mahirap din namang putulin niya ang kaniyang pag-ihi! Aandar na ang sasakyan! Nagsalita yung matandang nakasakay, “Umiihi pa yung isang matanda. Hintayin natin.” Sa isang iglap naramdaman nung isang matanda ang nararamdaman nung matandang umiihi, yung takot na baka siya maiwanan. Isipin na lang natin kung ano ang nangyari kung hindi umimik yung isang matanda!

BAGONG LANGIT AT BAGONG LUPA (Basahin ang Isaiah 65:17-25)
Ang pagmamahal ng Dios ay di nagmamaliw. Ang pagmamahal ng Diyos ay patuloy na bumubuhos sa ating lahat dahil mayroon pa ring mga taong nais ipagkaloob ang kanilang mga sarili, lumabas sa kanilang mga komportableng lugar, at makibahagi sa pakikibaka ng mga maralita.

Hinahamon tayong palakisin ang bigkis ng ating pakikiisa sa mga maliliit nating kapatid kay Kristo upang tahakin ang isang alternatibong paraan ng pag-unlad na kung saan ang lahat ay sama-samang magsasalo sa mga bunga ng di-nagmamaliw na pag-ibig ng Dios, ang kaganapan ng isang BAGONG LANGIT AT BAGONG LUPA DITO SA PAYATAS!

Ibinahagi ko sa blessing ng Day Care Center sa Masa Mission Church ng Puno United Methodist Church. Sabi ng isang nanay, sana sa malaking simbahan ito maibahagi para marinig ng mga tao doon.

Dear Hotaru - August 18, 2004

August 18, 2004

Dear Hotaru,

I have forgotten how to write. For some reason, my muses have left me, and it is not for a lack of stories that I have not written you for a long time… just a lack of putting things into words.
It has not been raining as I have expected. Although sometimes an inconvenience, I would still have welcomed the frequent rain, if not for the flooding it would cause on the places I am now working at. I have started work, by the way. Actually, since five months ago. I’m working with fisher folks in this boiling hot of a place called La Union. It is nice to be near the sea again as when I was in Masbate. But the sea here is not as near as I wish it would be. I stay most of the time in a house cum office near a terribly noisy highway… so it is not the waves of the sea that I hear most of the hours that I am awake or asleep. And you have always known my abhorrence of tricyles. Terrible invention, I really think it is. For all the noise and bad air it contributes. As to the income it gives thousands, no, probably millions of men here in the Philippines, I have to concede. But if I ever get to be President of this already desperate country of ours, I would definitely think of a way to get these drivers some other job. You nudge me to check my attitude, but I assure you, I am not whining. Just stating facts, he he. It really is boiling hot where I am, and the highway really is noisy, and tricyles really do contribute noise and bad air. I am also a lot darker than my usual color, and people have been telling me how emaciated I look. I have cut my hair as a symbolic gesture of letting go of the hang – ups I had from the last place I had been and as a welcoming, sort of, of this supposed new chapter of my life. It has been growing much faster than I thought.
What have we been learning lately? Blame it on the muses, much of my profundities have gone somewhere other than letters that should have been written to you. I did try to send some, in 160 characters, taking advantage of the technology now available to us. I do not think you received much. I think I kept much of them to myself, not that I sent myself my own SMS. There are such things as messages unsent. Messages kept. As there are messages sent, messages misunderstood, or messages ignored. Wonderful, really, how this world has come up with these things that mock distance, time, and energy. I guess, for some people, writing a letter by hand would be more for the drama than the need. Archaic as it may seem, the hand written letter is still one of the most expressive mediums of the heart. But I should get out of this dreamy like thing of talking about letters…
I have not been to places quite lately. The longest ride I’ve had recently was six hours and it was to a place familiar. But there is one place, you probably might not have heard of, and I just came from there. Moriah. It was where this old guy from the Bible called Abraham was about to bring his son so he could roast the boy. In obedience to God. I will not tell you the details of how or why I had to go to Moriah, but I will tell you how it feels. It hurts. It’s the most crushing, most agonizing feeling you could have. Like the death of a loved one. The death of an only son. Being always errant, I can never fully understand total obedience and submission, especially when you’re never really sure the things you hear inside your head is the voice of God or those little deceptive imaginary creatures you call your demons. But God does speak. And He said lay your heart’s desire down; bring the precious of your soul to the altar. Stop. Let go. Wait.
Stop. Let go. Wait. For you, these commands may seem trivial, but it is torture. And there is no other source of comfort but the knowledge that God desires the best. A perfect assurance and satisfaction in His love. What is then torture and agony will become steps of faith. A greater expectation of things to come. And release.
My humanness will require me frequent trips to Moriah. Maybe you’ve been there. You just might not have recognized the place. It’s a place of struggle and testing. It’s a place of doubt and questions. It’s a place of letting go. It’s a place of obedience to Divine mandates, or integrity to convictions, at a price. It’s a place of death, death to self. It’s a place of total surrender. These are things I have to learn, over and over again.
I pray you are well. God bless you.

Always,
Kulibangbang

Therefore, I urge you brothers in view of God's mercy to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing God - this is your spriritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - His good, pleasing and perfect will. - Romans 12: 1-2

The Lord redeems the soul of His servants; and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate.
– Psalm 34:22

Bleak

I had this written late February, I think. Posting it for the archive. :)

Bleak
By Eleonor T. Baldo

Birds are actually chirping outside the window. There are children playing on the pavement. It’s a bright sun shiny day. It’s a weekday and I am home. It is not a national holiday and there has not been a national strike organized for the day. There is not even a coup, or a mutiny, or a call for the people to gather and revolt. It is not even the elections. There is absolutely no reason why I should be home and not earning my day’s wage so I could have something to eat. No reason except that I am plainly out of work. Unemployed. Just like probably a considerable percentage of the Filipino population.
But having so many people in the same boat with me is not comforting. For one, it’s not a good boat and for another there are too many people aboard. We will not burn like that recent ferry accident. We will not even notice it that we have already sunk at the bottom of the ocean. We will not even notice the water seeping in. We will just see how many we are in the boat. We will not pat each other’s backs and say, “it’s okay.” We will look at each other’s eyes and say, “We have to get out of this boat, or get out of this country.” Heck, even those who are not in the boat want to get out of the country. Which, on hind sight, does not seem too bad. If four of ten people want to leave the country and that if they actually did, and of course they would bring along their families, the Philippines’ population will significantly be lowered. A significant portion of the workforce will be outside the country so there will be a demand for jobs inside the country. All the other people still with me in the boat would be out of it and we won’t have to leave the country! The Philippines is not over speeding towards entropy after all. But then, I am merely humoring myself. If I don’t get myself some source of income soon, I will soon be begging in the streets. But then again, there are some days the beggar makes more money than a regular workman. Maybe that is why they always go back, dressed for the day’s “work.” I am still humoring myself.

There should be some sense in this unemployed existence. I can make it a time of refreshing. Freedom from the stress of beating deadlines or producing outputs. Freedom from bosses who think you are magic workers able to complete tasks by the millions. Freedom from routines of office work. But then I used to work for a health organization that hopes to make a difference in the health of Asian populations. And I used to work for a research team that looks into the health practices of indigenous women. I liked what I used to work for. I don’t work for them anymore because I got lost somewhere and now I’m back and unemployed. Besides, the tasks were project based- at the mercies of funding organizations or clients.
They are still around – the people I used to work with. As May 2004 approaches, people are getting more desperate and hopeless over the future of the Philippines. Some people said I had the chance out. I was already out of the country. I should have stayed there. I should not have come back. I came back, though, not only because there is family and friends to come back to at home, but also because I refuse to lose hope in the country. There is still hope because there are still people who believe that people’s lives can get better. And they are working for it. At the end of May, I might have a president I might not be proud of, and a hoard of other politicians I abhor ruling this country. But there will still be people who pray, who believe that the Philippines will have a year of fullness and years of overflowing after. There is still hope because I still look forward to the birth of my nephew or niece. There is hope because I am still sending out my resumes and crossing my fingers. There is hope because I still find “help – wanted” advertisements in the newspapers. I refuse to shake my head over the seemingly bleak future of my country. I have to hold on to that because there are children still playing on the pavement outside where I live.

At the end of May, I might still be in the boat of the unemployed. But there is still June, and six other months after that. I can start planting my own vegetables if I run out of food. A can of soil is enough to grow a pechay plant. I’ll get myself many cans. I can exchange my vegetables for rice. I will survive.
The chickens are crowing. It’s three in the afternoon. See, even the chickens call out to the sun even when it’s already up. What more when it is down. The sun will set in a few hours. It will be night. There is morning to look forward to. Even in my unemployed existence.

Author’s Introduction:
I am 26 years old and a graduate of UP Baguio. I had originally planned to have something published in Youngblood so I could advertise myself. But I may be described with three words: Christian, Pahinungod, and Cordilleran. Thank you

Third moon

O let me wish
Break from reason
Cut the string
That tugs my wings
So I can be passionate
Even for a while

Let me wish this forever
Let me wish
That your feet have stopped
Their searching
And my wings
Need not desire to fly

Let me wish
To be the fountain
At the end of your day
Untie the burdens
Kiss your cares away
The world is left
Outside the door

And you are home.

Let me wish.

June 3, 2003

Attempts in Productivity Series

Ramblings.

Chapter 1.
It is July 26, 2004. A few minutes more the clock would turn and so would the calendar. I decide to play with words instead of get myself frustrated over Spider Solitaire. I should be pushing myself to do something that resembles work so I could at least say I had a productive day but for some reason, it wearies me tapping on the keyboard to put into eternal electronic form the notes a colleague made of a recent activity. I also could not bring myself to read, not even the supposedly light reading that Filipino romance novels are (since these books are around where I am right now), or the highly intellectual compilation of readings on organizations. Was the previous sentence even correct? Maybe I should save this and post it on my blog spot, which I was never able to “update” (I am too lazy now to look for the right term) since probably centuries ago. You see, sometimes, I have the illusion that I am a writer… and I thought I could eke out something every now and then that I could post on my “personal space” in the world wide web. I never got, no, made the time to learn, but I did try, and actually made simple personal websites, courtesy of Yahoo.. but I never really got far enough to actually have made a website. The blog was a more convenient option. Simple enough for my simple brain to take. Five minutes to twelve midnight. Maybe I should do other things.


Still at Chapter 1

Why I should put these “things” into chapters, I do not really know. I think I had intended to write something that resembles a story. It is July 29, 2004, by the way. I had slept late yesterday and had to wake up early for a trip to one of a co- worker’s field areas. We had a grand time walking through a bamboo bridge and milkfish feeds polluted water. Our intention was to get to the sea. We did get to the sea. The fishermen were there, too, “folding” their nets after around four hours of seafaring. It was quite impressive seeing them all lined up beside their bancas, doing the same thing. It was like watching workers in a factory assembly line. Impressive because it meant all those hundred something fishermen went and came back from the sea almost at the same time, talk about fishing together. It is not impressive however if one asks them how much bounty they had brought home. At least these fishermen had more than half a pail of fish to sell.

Another serving of Pambie Herrera's Poems

CALL OF THE QUILL



Words flooded me in a navigable ocean

Like a lost ship sailing on a labyrinth

Scorned by typhoon's face

They came so rapidly

During my most impenetrable

Solace with anonymity

They came in torrents

Which my mind was unable to calculate

Much more decipher

All I can do was to entertain them

Like a hospitable host

And forgot they came even before they left



But they stayed

Lavishing my thoughts with its punitive torture

That has yet to be indemnified

By the slightest weeping of the ink

I know, they were meant to be

Hidden in oblivion

For if not

They may cause people to think

Of an extreme insanity

That plagued my senses



But I tell you:

They kept coming

Willing to bare their soul

And as I drench their nakedness

The more they became incessant

Of prodding me to take heed of the call





WHITE AUTUMN



There are no rainbows

During this time of pale autumn



I walk in sands of white

Beneath a shrouded cloud of black rain

Confetti leaves of monochrome

Smoldered by a once fiery memory

Forever shared in forgetfulness

By those who knew my last summer



The tear, a prism it should be

To change this lifeless scene

To a flush of kaleidoscope



But it failed to escape my eyes



It is here

But it can never be shed



I wait for the maple leaves to burst red

But it remained a shower of dust

Softening my path of pebbles



There are no rainbows

Just a memory of how this autumn

Confronts me

Without its colors





THE SHELL



Wrapped in a mellifluous embrace

You sing

The deepest song of the sea

Such beauty you capture

In waves imprisoned within your bounds

That an inquiring ear alone can hear



Even the palms of my hands

Cannot hold the immensity

Of your galloping song

For it escapes me

Like wind of past

Yet never loses its warmth

Upon my ear



And the sands are nowhere

But traces of a weathered affliction

Sang by a drowned soul

Seeking for home



You hold your song upon your breast

Only to be heard by those

Who keeps you close





TAGHOY NG DAGAT





Umiyak ka

Basagin ang mga luha

Tulad ng umaalon kong katawang

Patuloy na gingahasa ng bagyo

Walang katapusang alipin ng araw



Pahaw na ang mata sa pag-iyak

Manhid na sa sakit

Na dulot ng nalunod na pag-asa

Ni hindi na maisipang dumaloy

Ng abang luha



Kahit unos pilit na niyayakap

Sapagkat halik niya

Ang aking kalayaan

Nagbibigay halakhak

Sa mga gabing ligaw



Ikaw, kailan huling nakatikim

Ng alat iyong mga mata?



Dinggin mo ang aking awit

At didiligin ko ng alat iyong mga luha







INSOMNIA 6



Pulsating awareness

Of a hopeful darkness

Leading my wakefulness

To a fervent kneeling

I ask slumber to kill my eyes



But no!

The more I become incessant

To the night's call

Of its yearning



And in this deep recession

Of ebony's beguiling passion

I find my knees

In joyful intercession



DUSK AND SOLITUDE


Silent my heart is

Calm as it kisses

The crimson dusk

Birthing anew from

The saffron rays

Gently it glides

Unto the recesses

Of the sheltered moment

That only the abyss

Of time holds

A treasure trove

Yet to be uncovered

It remain placid

And undisturbed

Even as the dusk

Prods its way

To its disclosure

Its threat of aging

As it welcomes

The sweetness

Of darkness' song

And the lark

Raptures a burning note

That strikes the gentleness

Of my soul

Exploding into a mildness

Bliss

That the union

Of night and twilight

Alone can hear

Quiet it has to be

For it not to lose its song

A worth once told

This treasure that

I have kept for so long

The night creeps

And once more I will hide

This love

On my own