Bukas na Kuya

Death, you visit me occasionally, and here come you again with your sad veil to see me here once more. I thought I knew you, Death, thought I had deciphered your idiocyncracies, rhythmed your steps into a predictable gait of pain to be recognized and narrowly avoided. But now you reveal yourself, chameleon you is, as a new-dark lurker on my timid periphery, loitering your latest brand of hurt around the lurid corners of my life.

Kuya, patay kana sa akin. And now to the world?

I had a dream last night that I bumped into you in a supermarket. Under those glaring lights and walls of food, you were with the babies, and with clicking feet they ran to me. I wrapped around them until the impressions of my arms dug into their skin, and the look in my eyes inflitrated the core of their bodies so they could never forget my love. But panaginip, and that is all. The sad-sorry bungang-tulog which in the daytime ripens into nothing.

I can feel their warmth.

To think it all started with a wagging wagging dila, some stupid balitang kutsero like a broken arrow, like a message from some misplaced cupid to demagnetize the once magnetic bonds of pamilya.

Mahal mo pa ba ako?

How many times have I held a place for you, your empty plate at Thanksgiving warm with my shame and decorated with quick words to excuse your neglect?
How many times has my thin neck been placed on the slicing board to protect the integrity I was so sure you posessed? And you did posess.

Remember when we used to jump off the roof, or hammer jagged nails into pieces of plywood, or laughed until the laway dripped soppy from our mouths?

Mahal mo pa ba ako?

And whatever happened to the rest of them, to "mahalin mo ang iyong mga magulang", as you once told me? How do you think they feel to see now only your back, your now-dead back, ugly and sweating with regret?

I thought the world of you.

And yet still ang pag-ibig ko sa iyo ay tunay.

I remember boy of steel, with skinny arms so strong in He-man pose, climbing coconut trees and holding Tatay’s brown hands, knowing always what is love, what is land, what is blood.

Dugo at tubig, which is better, thicker?

So if you want to revisit the world of my heart, come in. Bukas na. It is already open.

Today is better.