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Letters
Fill the sheet.
I read the words
But find no message:
I see only the misplaced question marks
And the oversized period.
I read not the words
But the gaps between them
Mirroring how
You stare at me sometimes:
Blank, yet undevoid of meaning.
Full in its emptiness.
Finally, I understand
What you’re trying to tell me:
You’re still here
But already gone.
I stare stupidly at the question marks
And curse the period.
Sherma E. Benosa
February 26, 2009; 8:45am
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Written right after I’ve published my very first short story (Sun-dried Leaves). I don’t know what to call this genre. Suffice it to say it was one of my practice pieces.
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I didn’t see him enter the room, didn’t even hear his footsteps as he crossed the short distance from the door to my bed where I was lying, trying to get a much needed sleep. My eyes were shut, but somehow I felt that someone was staring at me. I opened my eyes, and there he was, standing right beside me, his gaze intent upon my face.
I was shocked. I knew he’d be here. But still, his presence surprised me. I didn’t know how to react. And I couldn’t; I was already imprisoned in his gaze. Our eyes locked. He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at me, his gaze penetrating my being. I felt as though he was trying to read through me; to dive into the pool of secrets I kept inside. He held my gaze, willing me to obey his unspoken command not to turn my eyes from him. His eyes so powerful, I lost the will to look away.
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I see reflections of your glory
In the still waters of your peace
Beckoning me to look deep
Into the calming shades of
Your humming silence.
Like a breeze,
I sway with the soft hues
Of your warm embrace.
My senses attuned to the scent
Of your magnificence.
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Like other bloggers who have been blogging for sometime, I also sometimes blurt out words in my posts that seem to carry with them a tinge of wisdom.
That is not to say I am wise, though; oh no. But I do recognize that there have been moments that my fingers type things that I would have sworn I had nothing to do with had I not known they came from inside of me, like whispered thoughts.
I am sharing some of them here. I hope you find some truth in them.
I would never claim originality of the thoughts, as I am aware some of them may reflect some wisdom that may have been around since time immemorial. I claim originality of the words though, as they have flowed out not just from my mind, but my heart as well.
Here we go:
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(A Photo-inspired Poem)
The voice of worry reigns over
my jaded soul’s fitful attempts
to rest my eyes from the landscape
of my broken dreams in the forsaken
sky of busted wings; its discordant tune
humming a boisterous music that knows
no melody; chanting lyrics
that cut through the hope that resides
within me.
I fumble for the white handkerchief
to throw it into the arena
of my struggles. But then I get
a glimpse of you just lying in your cradle;
and suddenly, my lips refuse
to pronounce the name of surrender.
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A letter that should not have been penned
A song that should not have been sung
A poem that should not have been read
A story that should not have been shared
A promise that should not have been given
A lesson that should not have been taken
An advice that should not have been heeded
A step that should not have been taken
A trigger that should not have been pulled
A sword that should not have been wielded
A prisoner that should not have been jailed
A risk that should not have been taken
Piled (not too) neatly in one of my closets
Are things that should not have been kept
Crowding my drawers, filling my pockets
It’s clean-up time once again, I guess.
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//Sherma E. Benosa
2 July 2007; 2:25pm
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This post is inspired by lovewillbringustogether’s piece on change posted in Mandy’s place.
Life, as they say, is a lifelong process of learning, unlearning (the wrongs) and re-learning (the good things we may have forgotten). And along with this process is change.
There are changes that are slow in happening [those that happen at the micro (cellular) level], but though our naked eyes don’t recognize the changes at once, we know that they are happening nonetheless.
There are also changes that come when least expected. Good, bad changes that sweep us to a different world without us being able to pinpoint exactly how it happened, or what things led for them to happen. We just soon find ourselves adjusting to these changes; just how long the adjustment depends largely on the magnanimity of the change’s effect on us… and of course, how quick we are in adjusting.
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