makes no noise?

But makes a sound

that you can hear

within a heart’s distance.

Is there anything more

powerful than a wind’s whisper

in a midsummer night’s day.

It may wither and break

somehow it lasts longer

than death.

Its hold is longer than

life’s fingers.

What can I tell you that

makes no noise?

Other than the wind’s

cold whisper.

a lingering light wavers as you step in closely,

I wonder what is was like to be on the other side.

Doon ba sa may kalawakan kung saan ang liwanag

ay isang munting kislap sa paligid ng dilim?

Sa iyo ba ito kung nanaisin mo?

Saan ito makikita kung wala ito sa langit?

It did not budge. Sweat poured on my arms.

I went back home to get a shovel.

I saw the house and its oasis shadows for a moment. I felt like I saw another place maybe a distant memory of its previous inhabitants.

I wondered how a place could be so similar but not exactly the same. The same awnings, the same staircase, the same rooms, the same beds. Its as if I looked at a photograph but with different faces.

I opened the closet and took out the shovel. I felt its cold touch on my fingers it sent a rush of cold sweat through my veins. I wondered if the shovel was the only thing inside this closet before I came here?

I go back outside in the hot summer afternoon. In the distance the white bone juts out.

the heart you can’t leave behind,

and

wait

till it grows into—

Where ravens made of butterflies

Last longer in your mind

Than

a faint whisper of a phoenix

rising

from an ash of clay.

smiling

a moth landed on his chest

it glowed a pale green,

revealing

dark and light.

Peeled or with the skin on?

only to sleep again.

left on a table,

slow-

ly,

slow-

ly

browning

with worms.

that are otherwise empty.

Antenna

with

a

ball of yarn.

over my shoulder.

I can feel the wind crawling over my skin, as if

A jet were ready for take – off

I close my eyes and see a red sunset like the time

I saw melancholy by a table

on a white sand beach.

He (?) or she (?) waved a pale hand, telling

me to come over and have tea.

I stop walking for a moment, I wait

for the shadows to pass over the horizon.

I see melancholy still waving

I move closer,

Each step like a stone skipping

over a blue lagoon.

I see melancholy as clear as day,

Her pale brown eyes a brown mockingbird’s lips.

You are very much like depression,

I suddenly hear myself saying.

She smiles her moon light smile.

A pout wrinkles her lips,

come here, sit, have tea with me.

Her voice warm like coffee

(I remember distinctly it was not coffee)

no, more

Like freshly brewed mocha.

She looks at me with her dead-on silence,

(the kind of silence that makes or breaks me).

Suddenly,

the waves crash on the sandy beach.

I am awake

on the edge of a cliff,

dreamy

half-awake, half-asleep.

My eyes spread-eagled,

My fingers tingling.

I

take the first step over the edge,

falling,

fast,

like a comet.

I land firmly on a white sand beach cloud.

I see her (?) again waving her hand towards me,

I think it’s melancholy calling me again,

I come closer,

I see the face,

I was mistaken

it was home.