Full Moon

Okay, before I get serious with work, or before I get buried in it, let me just post this poem. I have been holding this for several days already. I could not bring myself to post it - everytime I read it I find something lacking in it. And I would edit it everytime. So before the feelings that I've poured into this poem dissolve into a soup, please let me post it. Anyway, I dedicate this to my blog's avid reader - who is none other than 'me'. Who else do you think reads this blog with such diligence as me? Hahahaha....

This is what happens when you overdose on 'Il Postino/Pablo Neruda". Someone gave me an interesting term for this.... hmmm, what was it? Artistic masturbation.... or something close to that. I can't remember exactly (gomen ne)

Wait, I don't even have a proper title for this poem. I know this poem is nothing close to extraordinary, but as 'Mario' said poetry is for those who need it. And also, if I keep procrastinating I'll never be able to post this. So here,

---




To See You

I want to see you.
This desire is persistent like a wound that would not stop bleeding.
It scatters on the bluest color of the sky,
until it breathes on every word and spills to the air.
And like a relentless wind in search of an unknown place,
I'm constantly in pursuit of you.

But I cannot see you,
I am a still full moon afraid to move
because beyond that horizon, over that fragile distance,
there you are in full radiance.
It's the light known only by a tree's roots
because they continue to grow –
farther to the core of the Earth.

But the desire is there,
to see you
under the ubiquitous sky.
It plays the melody that I cannot put into words.
It is, more than anything,
a wish, a prayer,
a child that I could not stop from being born.
and a tear that I cannot let to fall.

As long as the moon and sun rise and set inside my heart,
there will be no forgetting.
Your image appears in the crashing of the waves,
inside a coffee shop between the senseless chatter of people,
in the soft clicking sound of porcelain cups against saucers,
soothingly cold and clear,
warm as a stranger’s unguarded smile.
It pours as sudden as rain in the dead of night.

But I cannot see you.
This I know clearly.
The size of this desire is equal to my understanding of why it cannot be satisfied.
And my soul buried in this wonderful picture,
a still full moon afraid to lose sight of you.
It is not to separate from the black expanse of the night,
nor for its light to step into the vast blue sky.

But like the moon that cannot meet the sun,
I want to see you.

---

**I don't know much about Nobuyuki Hirakura. I only know him because he made a few songs of Laruku into acoustic - and, may I add, he did a wonderful job. I was listening to his acoustic of 'Vivid Colors' when I was writing this poem so thought I should also add it here**

While reading Amrita

"On a beach anyone can be a poet.

I've heard that when you stand on a beach and look out over the ocean, it's really 20 percent larger than you expected."

- Amrita, Banana Yoshimoto

For some reason, I'm finding it hard to finish 'Amrita' in just one sitting. It feels too heavy. Once I begin reading it, I'm warped into a sunset in its full color - bright orange, red, purple, and pink. All of it floods inside me in one breathing. It’s something that I cannot hold for too long. Maybe that's why sunsets are so fleeting.

I’m not making any sense again, am I?

I was stuck in traffic the other day all because of the typhoon. I walked a long way, just to find a bus that still has empty seats. A poem suddenly came to me then. The crowd was 20 percent larger than I expected *hahaha*. I recited the poem in my head over and over, afraid that it’ll slip away. But I’ve lost my confidence. It came to me like a vivid dream, but now it just sounds sloppy. I might have been just under the influence of Hyde and Banana – and the cold wind. In all honesty, I’m not a very articulate person and I was never really good at poems. But I’d like to believe that I can somehow, although clumsily, stitch words together. It’s either that or I’m deceiving myself. So, anyway, the reason I’m writing now is probably Banana’s influence on me again.

I was reading Amrita and a question popped in my head. It’s not a random question, but it’s the sort of question you’d ask yourself if you’re reading Amrita. How much have I changed over the years? I’m not really sure. For one, I used to adore rain. I loved the sound it creates -as it pours down over the cemented streets and over our tiny garden. But I’ve learned to appreciate sunny days. Just awhile ago, rain was pouring and I’m thinking how lovely it would be if the sun would turn up. From our bedroom window, our garden looks a lot better under the warm sunlight. This maybe is the one thing I’m certain that has changed in me. . . That and the joy I found in the company of my family.

Am I getting old? Hahaha . . .

I had a purpose in mind when I started writing this – something about ’20 percent larger than you expected’. But my parents unexpectedly handed me a cheeseroll and a glass of calamansi juice (when they've just arrived home from church). Now the reason for this blog was lost. Sheez . . . My thoughts are now drowned by the sound of the rain and the song “Tell Me” by Wonder Girls *laughs*

**My friends and I had to cancel our ‘mountain-climbing’ trip because of this typhoon. It was supposed to be my first attempt – but now I must wait until November. And hopefully I find the courage – and the words - to finish the poem I started.