muging - mila d. aguilar
i posted this at another group blog of poets. after "strictly politics," i stopped because i realized she might have been posting her poems on plaridel papers since its inception in 1999, i can't collect all her work into one blog entry. ahaha. she has her own blogspot, students of english. i wish she'd find some gradstudent or TA to hop on plaridel and her other online works to gather her poems, to blog them and possibly release a fourth collection, the poems she blogged... hehe... it's just a thought.
in this collection, muging is my favorite. hehe.
---
you guys might like poet mila d. aguilar.
ms. aguilar was an activist during the 1970s, writing about communism and activism against the marcos rule. your school library might have a copy of her book of poems, "a comrade is as precious as a rice seedling." i think it's out of print now. boo. but i think "Journey: An Autobiography in Verse," published by UP, is still around. she has a third volume, "Chronicle of a Life Foretold: 110 Poems (1995-2004)," pending publication.
she is the founder of the online presence "pinoy tok," a web site dedicated to all things filipino.
ms. aguilar wakes up at dawn and composes verses. then she logs online and posts them on plaridel papers, a yahoogroup of writers. she maintains a blog for her students, students of english.
---
It's the Rot Antic
By Mila D. Aguilar
It's the Rot Antic.
Rot of carrion.
Rot of corruption.
Rot of bodies
Under tons of slime and rock.
Under the weight of
Grime and muck.
ROT. Reign Of The.
Reign of the frozen grin
The thieving queen
The terror twins
Reign of the drones
Spying on our muted crones.
ANTIC. Antichrist.
Why wonder at the
Statistical lies
The brazen tricks
The many fools
Following exactly nothing.
666. It's the Rot Antic. It's here to stick.
February 20, 2006
3:56 AM
---
Haiku of the times
By Mila D. Aguilar
Tonight,
The fireworks lasted
Only thirty minutes.
January 1, 2006
1:07:12 AM
---
2005: The Last Days
ni Mila D. Aguilar
a.k.a. Clarita Roja
I.
Kagabi, may mga nagpaputok
Labintador lang naman
Pero ipinagtaka ko,
Dahil wala yata sa panahon.
Pagkalabas ko kinaumagahan
Naintindihan ko kung bakit.
Walang katao-tao sa daan.
Nagsisiksikan ang mga bus
Sa dalawang gilid ng EDSA,
Naghihintay ng mga pasaherong
Di dumarating.
Hawan ang kabilang parte
Ng nakatiwangwang na daan.
Sarado ang mga mall.
Alam na nilang ngayong araw
Walang magbibilihan,
Dahil sa mga linggong
Nakaraan, di rin karamihan
Ang nagpuntahan
Upang mamili, o magparaya man.
Masahol pa sa Biyernes Santo
Ang mga panahong ito.
Pasko na, Gloria, o!
Anong ginawa mo sa bayan ko?
II.
"What is real?
Asked the rabbit one day…."
Only my hair having been loved off,
My dear.* Otherwise,
What is real in a world
Manufactured by liars
In high places?
What is truth?
Are there more jobs?
Are the exports rising?
Are the investors investing?
Is the peso really rebounding?
Were there ever WMDs in Iraq?
The people know, but do not move,
As if they were waiting
For the stones to fall
Until not one is left on another.
The people know:
He will come on a cloud
But before that
One is already here
Who will claim to be Him,
He and she being it.
What is Truth?
Will you be able to stand firm
In the face of it?
Will you be able to stand before
The Son of Man, escaping
All that is about to happen,
Not a hair of your head perishing
As others are taken prisoners
To all the nations?**
What is truth
In the age of deception?
III.
Ngayong araw,
Panay pa rin ang paputok
Ng mga iskwater
Sa tabi-tabi.
Ibang klase silang
Magpaputok ngayon.
Di tulad ng dati,
Na masaya.
Ngayong taon,
May kahalong galit
Ang mga putok,
Para bagang sinasabing
Ito na lamang ang aming
Pagpaparausan
Tutal binigyan niyo kami
Ng kahirapan.
Walang ikababahala:
Labintador lang naman.
Ewan ko lang sa susunod na taon
Kung ano pa ang kayang makaon.
December 25, 2005
7:00 – 9:00 pm
* The question and answer are derived from Margery Williams' poem
entitled "What is Real?"
** This stanza and the two preceding it use the words of Luke 21,
New International Version, almost exactly in some parts.
---
Birds
by Mila D. Aguilar
I don't know the language
Of which they speak
As they fly busily about
After the rain.
I can't tell why
After some minutes
They stop
Going about their business.
Is it the wind rustling
Gently through the leaves?
Or are they done?
The skies may be gray,
But I share their joy
Over the coming and going
Of the rain, the way
The plants green and preen
Over the end
Of a long withering summer.
August 8, 2005
10:00-11:06
---
Sino ang Pumatay?
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Dati'y nakikita ko sila sa aking bintana
Habang ako'y nakahiga
o di kaya
Sabay ng lagaslas ng tubig sa banyo
Ay biglang maririnig
ang kanilang mga tinig.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Ngayon, tanging nauulinigan na lang
Ay ingit ng pagniniig
ng mga kuliglig
Na di mamataan dahil sa kaliitan.
At iyon siguro
ang dahilan.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Isang gabi'y nabulahaw ako ng tunog
Na may limang tono
paroo't parito.
Sumunod na gabi'y nawala. Putok
Ang nag-alumpihit
Imbes na pipit.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Sumunod na gabi'y tunog ng kwago ang pumiho
Isang gabi lang ulit iyon.
Peon,
Sapat na pamatid-gutom ba sabay um-om
Ng beer na iyong dear?
Appear!
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Marso 9, 2005
3:06-4:42 am
---
Muging*
By Mila D. Aguilar
Ining muging kuno
Amo ang nagatuntong
Sa punta sang palay
Sang wala pa unod
Sa sulod.
Like nacre it sits
On the edge of the chaff,
Awaiting redemption.
Kun maayo ang pagtubo
Mahimo siya
Nga bugas.
Seed of the seed,
It could grow into rice
Good enough to eat.
Then again
It may not.
Kun mag-ulan
Nga wala pa napuno
Ang sulod,
Ay kasakit!
Mapait ang upod.
Rain falling
Out of time
Could stunt it.
Maitum ang punta,
Gamay ang guwa,
Indi guid manami.
It mixes with
The good grain,
Black on one end,
Spoiling
The sweetness.
Amo nga
Kinhanglan pilion
Kag ihaboy.
It is bitter.
Never mix it
With the chosen.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
4:30-5:13 AM
*There are two ways of reading this poem. If one knows both Ilonggo and English, one can read it continuously. Or one could read only the English parts, in sequence, or the Ilonggo parts, as a separate poem. None is the exact translation of the other. Yet both come out with the same thought.
---
Strictly Politics
(For Pia Hontiveros)
by Mila D. Aguilar
Listen to the apologist
As he speaks,
Wriggling his way
Out of her closet like a worm.
Look at the two black blotches
On what could have been
His cheeks, acned
By years of excess
Sweets and tar having
Eaten up his teeth,
All the better to hiss
His sibilant sounds
His eyes shifting left
And right, his darkness
No match to the
Handsome men and host
Facing his venom
As he sneers at the
Sheer logic of the
Clean man of God.
In my garden
The mariposa has not visited
My mother's santol tree
For years.
No big colorful butterflies
Here anymore,
Only the small ones
Who flit about fast
And then disappear.
This summer
The santol fell to the ground
In their dozens,
Leaving us little to eat.
Something in the air
Dwarfs all beauty around me.
Something in the heat
Smothers the truth.
I wish for the rain,
Though it be too far between
To wash off the scum.
June 25, 2005
5:30-6:15 am
---
N.B.:
Mila D. Aguilar was also known as Clarita Roja when she was underground for thirteen years during the period of Martial Law.
She had chosen the name Clarita Roja, which means “clear red,” thinking it to signify the red of communism. Little did she know then that it also means the blood of Jesus Christ, who died on the cross to redeem mankind from its sins.
Clarita Roja it was who wrote such books of poetry as The Mass Line and Dare to Struggle, Dare to Win. When she emerged as Mila D. Aguilar again in prison, she came up with three more books, one published in San Francisco ("Pall Hanging Over Manila," 1984), another in New York ("A Comrade is as Precious as a Rice Seedling," 1984, 1985 and 1987), still another in Manila by the Free Mila D. Aguilar Committee ("Why Cage Pigeons?", 1984).
Almost all her poems, including those she wrote from age 15, were collected in a volume published by the University of the Philippines Press in 1996 ("Journey: An Autobiography in Verse").
Her latest collection, still unpublished, is entitled "Chronicle of a Life Foretold: 110 Poems (1995-2004)." This poem, as well as five others, is not included in that collection.
==========================
Celebrasyon ng Masaker
sa Hacienda Luisita*
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Tuliro sa kapangyarihan,
nilamon ng
isa sa mga daliri ng Halimaw
ang Hacienda Luisita
matapos niyang hambalusin
ang Afghanistan at Iraq
pagkabagsak
sa loob ng isang oras
ng kanyang kalaguyong
nakapatong sa kanyang balikat.
Naghuhumiyaw sa tuwa
ang mga negosyante
at hari ng mundo.
Akala nila'y ito na 'to.
Malaya na silang
makapandarambong
nabili na ang lahat ng
manunulat sa dyaryo
mangangalakal relihiyoso
sundalo mamboboso.
Mayroon na silang
Hari-Harian
na kung lumakad ay animong
may-ari ng sangkatauhan
at duling sa kapangyarihan.
Laking tuwa nila
sa kanilang anti-Kristo
di alam ang napipinto
Oras na ng pagkakanulo.
Nililinis ang kalooban
ng mga lumalaban
para sa katarungan
para sa katuwiran
para sa katotohanan
binubukod lahat ng makasalanan
pinapayaman
tunay na kaban ng bayan
naroroon sa kaibuturan
ng puso ninuman
sa lupang Kanyang inalagaan.
Magkakaroon pa
ng maraming martir
upang ang natira'y makakita
sa Kanyang pagdating
lulan ng alapaap.
Ang tuwa ng mga
mangangalakal at hari ng mundo
ay mapapariwara.
Itatapon ang Halimaw sampu ng
lahat ng propetang
nagbunyi sa kanya
sa apoy na walang hanggan.
Itatali si Satanas
at lahat ng kanyang kampon.
Magkakaroon ng sanlibong taon
ng kapayapaan
kung saan
maghahari
ang tunay na Kristo
sa lahat ng puso.
Ngunit magbantay:
matagal pa ang labanan,
marami pa ang mahahawan.
Nobyembre 23, 2004
7:01 am
* Ang mga ideya sa tulang ito ay nanggaling sa
Daniel 8, Matthew 24 at Revelation 17-19 ng Banal
sa Kasulatan.
---
Para kay Cory
Tanda ng Masaker
Sa Hacienda Luisita
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Para ka namang si Bush
Na sa ngalan ng Ama'y
Nambobomba ng kapwa.
Para ka namang si Gloria
Na sa ngalan ng Anak ay
Nangungulimbat ng bansa.
Para ka namang si Satanas
Na sa ngalan ng Espiritu Santo'y
Nanlilinlang ng mananampalataya
Upang sila'y mawalan
Ng paniniwala
Sa Panginoong Jehovah.
Para ka namang relihiyosa.
Nobyembre 22, 2004
9:33 pm
---
How many storms
By Mila D. Aguilar
How many
Storms has He sent us, Jezebel,
Since you
Wheedled your way into
Our woes?
You would
Think the myriad rains had
Washed away
Our sins, but you remain,
A sore
Reminder
Of them, our trillion trickeries,
Unremanded
By repentance of whatever
Kind.
As the
Esteros rise, Jezebel, we could
Only pray
The Pasig would too, engulfing
You
In its
Scum, but we don't, having
Ourselves
Gulped enough of His life-giving
Rain.
How many
Storms before He washes you
Away,
Jezebel, before He drowns us
In our sins?
September 2, 2004
5:00-6:23 am
---
Cracks in my Eyes
by Mila D. Aguilar
My granddaughter says
I have cracks in my eyes.
Cracks in your eyes, Wowa!
You have cracks in your eyes.
Those are veins, I retort.
No, she shoots back, quite sure,
You have cracks in your eyes.
Five years old, she would not
Be deterred. So I demur,
The claim echoing in my head.
What could she mean?
I have no way of telling
Except my eyes sting
A wee bit. I couldn't cry it out,
I know too much ahead
For tears. It is
Another wait, the last
Before the most crucial one.
You would think it were
Physical, but it is not.
It isn't even happening in
The area of the soul.
Not anymore. The battle's
Up ahead, it takes not
Eyes to see. I wish
My eyes were whole and
I couldn't, but I do. Cracks
Speak. Eyes only see.
Sunday, August 28, 2004
6:15-7:00 am
in this collection, muging is my favorite. hehe.
---
you guys might like poet mila d. aguilar.
ms. aguilar was an activist during the 1970s, writing about communism and activism against the marcos rule. your school library might have a copy of her book of poems, "a comrade is as precious as a rice seedling." i think it's out of print now. boo. but i think "Journey: An Autobiography in Verse," published by UP, is still around. she has a third volume, "Chronicle of a Life Foretold: 110 Poems (1995-2004)," pending publication.
she is the founder of the online presence "pinoy tok," a web site dedicated to all things filipino.
ms. aguilar wakes up at dawn and composes verses. then she logs online and posts them on plaridel papers, a yahoogroup of writers. she maintains a blog for her students, students of english.
---
It's the Rot Antic
By Mila D. Aguilar
It's the Rot Antic.
Rot of carrion.
Rot of corruption.
Rot of bodies
Under tons of slime and rock.
Under the weight of
Grime and muck.
ROT. Reign Of The.
Reign of the frozen grin
The thieving queen
The terror twins
Reign of the drones
Spying on our muted crones.
ANTIC. Antichrist.
Why wonder at the
Statistical lies
The brazen tricks
The many fools
Following exactly nothing.
666. It's the Rot Antic. It's here to stick.
February 20, 2006
3:56 AM
---
Haiku of the times
By Mila D. Aguilar
Tonight,
The fireworks lasted
Only thirty minutes.
January 1, 2006
1:07:12 AM
---
2005: The Last Days
ni Mila D. Aguilar
a.k.a. Clarita Roja
I.
Kagabi, may mga nagpaputok
Labintador lang naman
Pero ipinagtaka ko,
Dahil wala yata sa panahon.
Pagkalabas ko kinaumagahan
Naintindihan ko kung bakit.
Walang katao-tao sa daan.
Nagsisiksikan ang mga bus
Sa dalawang gilid ng EDSA,
Naghihintay ng mga pasaherong
Di dumarating.
Hawan ang kabilang parte
Ng nakatiwangwang na daan.
Sarado ang mga mall.
Alam na nilang ngayong araw
Walang magbibilihan,
Dahil sa mga linggong
Nakaraan, di rin karamihan
Ang nagpuntahan
Upang mamili, o magparaya man.
Masahol pa sa Biyernes Santo
Ang mga panahong ito.
Pasko na, Gloria, o!
Anong ginawa mo sa bayan ko?
II.
"What is real?
Asked the rabbit one day…."
Only my hair having been loved off,
My dear.* Otherwise,
What is real in a world
Manufactured by liars
In high places?
What is truth?
Are there more jobs?
Are the exports rising?
Are the investors investing?
Is the peso really rebounding?
Were there ever WMDs in Iraq?
The people know, but do not move,
As if they were waiting
For the stones to fall
Until not one is left on another.
The people know:
He will come on a cloud
But before that
One is already here
Who will claim to be Him,
He and she being it.
What is Truth?
Will you be able to stand firm
In the face of it?
Will you be able to stand before
The Son of Man, escaping
All that is about to happen,
Not a hair of your head perishing
As others are taken prisoners
To all the nations?**
What is truth
In the age of deception?
III.
Ngayong araw,
Panay pa rin ang paputok
Ng mga iskwater
Sa tabi-tabi.
Ibang klase silang
Magpaputok ngayon.
Di tulad ng dati,
Na masaya.
Ngayong taon,
May kahalong galit
Ang mga putok,
Para bagang sinasabing
Ito na lamang ang aming
Pagpaparausan
Tutal binigyan niyo kami
Ng kahirapan.
Walang ikababahala:
Labintador lang naman.
Ewan ko lang sa susunod na taon
Kung ano pa ang kayang makaon.
December 25, 2005
7:00 – 9:00 pm
* The question and answer are derived from Margery Williams' poem
entitled "What is Real?"
** This stanza and the two preceding it use the words of Luke 21,
New International Version, almost exactly in some parts.
---
Birds
by Mila D. Aguilar
I don't know the language
Of which they speak
As they fly busily about
After the rain.
I can't tell why
After some minutes
They stop
Going about their business.
Is it the wind rustling
Gently through the leaves?
Or are they done?
The skies may be gray,
But I share their joy
Over the coming and going
Of the rain, the way
The plants green and preen
Over the end
Of a long withering summer.
August 8, 2005
10:00-11:06
---
Sino ang Pumatay?
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Dati'y nakikita ko sila sa aking bintana
Habang ako'y nakahiga
o di kaya
Sabay ng lagaslas ng tubig sa banyo
Ay biglang maririnig
ang kanilang mga tinig.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Ngayon, tanging nauulinigan na lang
Ay ingit ng pagniniig
ng mga kuliglig
Na di mamataan dahil sa kaliitan.
At iyon siguro
ang dahilan.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Isang gabi'y nabulahaw ako ng tunog
Na may limang tono
paroo't parito.
Sumunod na gabi'y nawala. Putok
Ang nag-alumpihit
Imbes na pipit.
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Sumunod na gabi'y tunog ng kwago ang pumiho
Isang gabi lang ulit iyon.
Peon,
Sapat na pamatid-gutom ba sabay um-om
Ng beer na iyong dear?
Appear!
Sino
ang damuhong
pumatay sa mga ibon?
Marso 9, 2005
3:06-4:42 am
---
Muging*
By Mila D. Aguilar
Ining muging kuno
Amo ang nagatuntong
Sa punta sang palay
Sang wala pa unod
Sa sulod.
Like nacre it sits
On the edge of the chaff,
Awaiting redemption.
Kun maayo ang pagtubo
Mahimo siya
Nga bugas.
Seed of the seed,
It could grow into rice
Good enough to eat.
Then again
It may not.
Kun mag-ulan
Nga wala pa napuno
Ang sulod,
Ay kasakit!
Mapait ang upod.
Rain falling
Out of time
Could stunt it.
Maitum ang punta,
Gamay ang guwa,
Indi guid manami.
It mixes with
The good grain,
Black on one end,
Spoiling
The sweetness.
Amo nga
Kinhanglan pilion
Kag ihaboy.
It is bitter.
Never mix it
With the chosen.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
4:30-5:13 AM
*There are two ways of reading this poem. If one knows both Ilonggo and English, one can read it continuously. Or one could read only the English parts, in sequence, or the Ilonggo parts, as a separate poem. None is the exact translation of the other. Yet both come out with the same thought.
---
Strictly Politics
(For Pia Hontiveros)
by Mila D. Aguilar
Listen to the apologist
As he speaks,
Wriggling his way
Out of her closet like a worm.
Look at the two black blotches
On what could have been
His cheeks, acned
By years of excess
Sweets and tar having
Eaten up his teeth,
All the better to hiss
His sibilant sounds
His eyes shifting left
And right, his darkness
No match to the
Handsome men and host
Facing his venom
As he sneers at the
Sheer logic of the
Clean man of God.
In my garden
The mariposa has not visited
My mother's santol tree
For years.
No big colorful butterflies
Here anymore,
Only the small ones
Who flit about fast
And then disappear.
This summer
The santol fell to the ground
In their dozens,
Leaving us little to eat.
Something in the air
Dwarfs all beauty around me.
Something in the heat
Smothers the truth.
I wish for the rain,
Though it be too far between
To wash off the scum.
June 25, 2005
5:30-6:15 am
---
N.B.:
Mila D. Aguilar was also known as Clarita Roja when she was underground for thirteen years during the period of Martial Law.
She had chosen the name Clarita Roja, which means “clear red,” thinking it to signify the red of communism. Little did she know then that it also means the blood of Jesus Christ, who died on the cross to redeem mankind from its sins.
Clarita Roja it was who wrote such books of poetry as The Mass Line and Dare to Struggle, Dare to Win. When she emerged as Mila D. Aguilar again in prison, she came up with three more books, one published in San Francisco ("Pall Hanging Over Manila," 1984), another in New York ("A Comrade is as Precious as a Rice Seedling," 1984, 1985 and 1987), still another in Manila by the Free Mila D. Aguilar Committee ("Why Cage Pigeons?", 1984).
Almost all her poems, including those she wrote from age 15, were collected in a volume published by the University of the Philippines Press in 1996 ("Journey: An Autobiography in Verse").
Her latest collection, still unpublished, is entitled "Chronicle of a Life Foretold: 110 Poems (1995-2004)." This poem, as well as five others, is not included in that collection.
==========================
Celebrasyon ng Masaker
sa Hacienda Luisita*
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Tuliro sa kapangyarihan,
nilamon ng
isa sa mga daliri ng Halimaw
ang Hacienda Luisita
matapos niyang hambalusin
ang Afghanistan at Iraq
pagkabagsak
sa loob ng isang oras
ng kanyang kalaguyong
nakapatong sa kanyang balikat.
Naghuhumiyaw sa tuwa
ang mga negosyante
at hari ng mundo.
Akala nila'y ito na 'to.
Malaya na silang
makapandarambong
nabili na ang lahat ng
manunulat sa dyaryo
mangangalakal relihiyoso
sundalo mamboboso.
Mayroon na silang
Hari-Harian
na kung lumakad ay animong
may-ari ng sangkatauhan
at duling sa kapangyarihan.
Laking tuwa nila
sa kanilang anti-Kristo
di alam ang napipinto
Oras na ng pagkakanulo.
Nililinis ang kalooban
ng mga lumalaban
para sa katarungan
para sa katuwiran
para sa katotohanan
binubukod lahat ng makasalanan
pinapayaman
tunay na kaban ng bayan
naroroon sa kaibuturan
ng puso ninuman
sa lupang Kanyang inalagaan.
Magkakaroon pa
ng maraming martir
upang ang natira'y makakita
sa Kanyang pagdating
lulan ng alapaap.
Ang tuwa ng mga
mangangalakal at hari ng mundo
ay mapapariwara.
Itatapon ang Halimaw sampu ng
lahat ng propetang
nagbunyi sa kanya
sa apoy na walang hanggan.
Itatali si Satanas
at lahat ng kanyang kampon.
Magkakaroon ng sanlibong taon
ng kapayapaan
kung saan
maghahari
ang tunay na Kristo
sa lahat ng puso.
Ngunit magbantay:
matagal pa ang labanan,
marami pa ang mahahawan.
Nobyembre 23, 2004
7:01 am
* Ang mga ideya sa tulang ito ay nanggaling sa
Daniel 8, Matthew 24 at Revelation 17-19 ng Banal
sa Kasulatan.
---
Para kay Cory
Tanda ng Masaker
Sa Hacienda Luisita
ni Mila D. Aguilar
Para ka namang si Bush
Na sa ngalan ng Ama'y
Nambobomba ng kapwa.
Para ka namang si Gloria
Na sa ngalan ng Anak ay
Nangungulimbat ng bansa.
Para ka namang si Satanas
Na sa ngalan ng Espiritu Santo'y
Nanlilinlang ng mananampalataya
Upang sila'y mawalan
Ng paniniwala
Sa Panginoong Jehovah.
Para ka namang relihiyosa.
Nobyembre 22, 2004
9:33 pm
---
How many storms
By Mila D. Aguilar
How many
Storms has He sent us, Jezebel,
Since you
Wheedled your way into
Our woes?
You would
Think the myriad rains had
Washed away
Our sins, but you remain,
A sore
Reminder
Of them, our trillion trickeries,
Unremanded
By repentance of whatever
Kind.
As the
Esteros rise, Jezebel, we could
Only pray
The Pasig would too, engulfing
You
In its
Scum, but we don't, having
Ourselves
Gulped enough of His life-giving
Rain.
How many
Storms before He washes you
Away,
Jezebel, before He drowns us
In our sins?
September 2, 2004
5:00-6:23 am
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Cracks in my Eyes
by Mila D. Aguilar
My granddaughter says
I have cracks in my eyes.
Cracks in your eyes, Wowa!
You have cracks in your eyes.
Those are veins, I retort.
No, she shoots back, quite sure,
You have cracks in your eyes.
Five years old, she would not
Be deterred. So I demur,
The claim echoing in my head.
What could she mean?
I have no way of telling
Except my eyes sting
A wee bit. I couldn't cry it out,
I know too much ahead
For tears. It is
Another wait, the last
Before the most crucial one.
You would think it were
Physical, but it is not.
It isn't even happening in
The area of the soul.
Not anymore. The battle's
Up ahead, it takes not
Eyes to see. I wish
My eyes were whole and
I couldn't, but I do. Cracks
Speak. Eyes only see.
Sunday, August 28, 2004
6:15-7:00 am
posted by ulanmaya at 1:18:00 PM
1 Comments:
Hi, nice to make your acquaintance. This is Mila Aguilar; I chanced upon your blog just now. May we know each other? You can write to me at mila.d.aguilar@gmail.com.
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