What does silence mean to you?

I have known silence as God’s time
… a chance for Him to say His piece
after we have expressed our litany of wants.

Silence is nature’s expression of Her peace and beauty
… of the wondrous unity of atoms
to block the sounds of agony, contempt, injustice and indifference
man has waged against himself.

Silence is the introspection of the soul
… to find an alternative venom to extinguish
the wrath of temptation.

But after Mama’s death
… silence has developed itself in its cruelest form.
Saying nothing.
Hearing nothing.
And all these hubbub of soundlessness
… have suddenly and sickeningly turned into a terror
with all its shape and the feel of it
… all its spiky little corners.

This silence is not silence at all…
It signifies death.
Breathing has been defeated.
Surrendered altogether.
And I can hear the expletive-ridden chatter
… of my own mourning, mixed with anger.
To what?
For whom?
I really just do not know.

My pain cannot be displaced
… by any amount of consolation.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
Losing a mother as beloved as mine
… is agonizingly tormenting.

That to me is silence…

“I love him!”, was her only utterance
when asked by most
why she remained beside him
regardless of his condition
that seemed hopeless.

Her patience tested beyond endurance
the cruelty of cancer
became her friend
the obnoxious smell
perfumed her sanity with hope.

“I love him!”, was all her answer
resting his head on her lap
was her refuge in mourning
for he is now gone forever
but her love remained… unshaken.

To Rosevie, his beloved – the last Rose in his life.

I don’t want to remember you
with vile words spoken
hurting each other… terribly;
but with the red roses
and love letters carefully tucked
under my pillow…then.

I don’t want to remember you
with the irreconcilable differences;
but with white roses
and whispered sweet nothings
after every fight.

I don’t want to remember you
with the broken dreams of forever;
but with the peach roses
every weekend that found its home
in the comforts of my room.

I don’t want to remember you
with the unbendable pride and lies
that drew us apart;
but with the pink roses
you told me I am – faint in color
but struck you with a blow.

I don’t want to remember you
with the night we broke up;
but with the yellow roses
you brought me a day after;
not with drooped shoulders
when you left,
but with the spirit
when you won my heart;
not with the tears welling from your eyes
but with the laughter
that echoed when I accepted your love;
not with the skinny frail-looking man
but with the strength and enthusiasm
you shared with people.

I want to remember you
from this moment onward
as a memory of a special angel
who once swept me off my feet
and roses of every hue.

Goodbye dear angel!
Farewell to you!
Take your destined place
in the loving arms of our Creator…

Saw those deep penetrating eyes
for the last time
now recalling in my memory
a hundred times
as I close my eyes.

They were staring at me
dearly… lovingly
wanting to get some attention
amidst a stack of thoughts
and feelings of yesteryears.

He held my hand
for the last time
coldness shivering within
like steel burrowed in ice
for the longest moment of a lifetime.

He darted those eyes
to my farthest direction
trying to trace the love once there
but saw none… some care
and pity for this man.

Saw those eyes closed forever
now they will only stare at me
in my dreams
in my memory
when I close my eyes.

In memory of the man whose eyes stared at me lovingly.
Eternal rest grant unto him, oh Lord
And let perpetual light shine upon him
May he rest in peace.
Amen.

Almost a century’s old
Her voice still soft like the breeze
Her words gentle like the stars
Calming like the night
Healing wounded souls like mine;
Her touch light as feather
Can revived a damned spirit
To enlightened beings like I.

Almost a century’s old
She recalls me her child
Drawn not from her womb
But within her faithful heart,
She whispered my name she gave
“The most precious union”, she said,
“Mary, Joseph and their Celestial guide”.

Almost a century’s old
Her prayers powerful as ever
Angels withdrew her from death
The Mother held her dearly
A fragile body but sturdy soul
For her cup has more to fill
Her staff more sheep to bring home.

Almost a century’s old
She’s back in her haven
A convent without walls
Only windows and doors
And bridges over slope;
Her prayer powerful as ever
Praying for constellations to unfold.

To Mother Alexis of Mary Consolatrix Convent

She in her youth
   fell in love
He in his passion
   got her pregnant.

She in her innocence
   gave him her all
He in his ambition
   left her pained.

She in her selflessness
   took him when he returned
He in his insensitivity
   wounded her in every comeback.

She in her deathbed
   loved him still
He in his suffering
   longed another chance.

She in her last breath
   uttered forgiveness for him
He in his other life
   welcomed her to eternity.

She is my mother
   died of cancer
He is my father
   slept and never woke up.

She is my mother
   died six months after him
He is my father
   died six months before her.

Now, she and he are united
   stood by their promise
Not “’Til death do us part”
   but “Death brought us together”.

She was sweet sixteen when I got to know her
striding with grace  at the Perfecto corridor
with snowy, cottony skin and warm smile
that sometimes pouts like awaiting a Prince’s kiss;
she too has this aura of mystery in her blank stare
behind those thick glasses, nobody could tell
what actually this lady thinks of the world
that dances and sings… gyrating around her.

It was her very look that amazed me
that sensitive gaze that infiltrates your being,
she might have the fragility of an infant
but she has the strength of a conqueror like Bonaparte;
when she started to speak, her voice engulfed me
“A sensible woman”, I silently whispered to myself
“I have to know her deeper”, I have decided
and thus, a friendship bloomed, never faltered.

We would smile at our nasty thoughts in class
write each other sweet notes even we’re seated together,
laugh at our silliness when it comes to love
and together we fought over temptations of youth;
I could hardly remember a day we weren’t in good terms
maybe because we perfectly blend in each others persona
carefree of what people say… for we love unconditionally
mistakes may have weakened us, but just for a second.

More than a decade has passed, our friendship
still growing in beauty and strength like Jesus’ fig tree
now we mother equally pretty and gifted children
the legacy of our own image and likeness (wag kumontra!);
our lives have been a rough journey on bare foot
brought bruises that pained our very soul
sometimes incomprehensible, “Why me, Lord?”
but hoping faith would keep us steadfast to our Creator.

I have come out of the darkness of my cave
retrieved my sanity when in less than a year
my father slept and never woke up and
my beloved mother succumbed herself to cancer;
now it is her who fights the blinding truth of SJS
with her daughter, her refuge would hide too
in those thick glasses that she thought were like prison
which curtailed her the freedom of vision she never enjoyed.

Eyes filled with tears, with another made hazy by a scar
asking the One who gave her those pair of burden
What is Your purpose dear Father? What is mine?
Would I submit myself and blend with the shadows?
I hope she won’t… I pray she would fight
like she always did – not surrendering to mortal blows
for even when  those eyes that failed her would not see things
her heart filled with faith and love feels what are unseen.   

Ice cream fudge
girl licks sweetly
carelessly
not realizing
an anticipating wolf.

Skipping rope
girl hops about
happily
unknowing
of a scheming marauder.

Candies and pops
girl holds tight
clinging hopelessly
when she noticed
how the man across
the street looks at her
hungrily.

Bears and stuff
girl holds tight
never wanting to let go
when she discerned at last
how the man walked
through her
hastily.

Ice cream fudge
fell on the ground,
skipping rope
haphazardly scattered,
candies and pops
sloppily dropped,
bears and stuff
in a slapdash.

Nobody heard her scream
kids went on playing
as they please,
unaware
that behind
the gargantuan church bell
lies a scorned childhood,
shattered dreams.

Nobody heard her scream
people went along their business
as they too need quarts
to live a decent life
but who would care
when a lamb so pure
had taken her line
among innocence astray.

As the man screamed
in ecstasy,
a silenced plea
escaped the girl’s larynx
gone with the wind
and the only witness
are her tears
sprinkled on the manicured grass
and the empty clanging
of the old church bell.

She thought to herself
this will be over
I can wash away his scent,
tomorrow will be a new day
I can go back playing
buy some fudge
skip rope with friends
get some candies and pops
in my granny’s jar
tug along my bears and stuff.

Poor girl
she woke up
the day after… smiling
thinking what a beautiful day
it was… it’s Sunday
she whispered to herself,
got to put on my best dress
will hear the mass with Mom
and they went ahead.

Sitting on the first row
she knelt before God
fervently praying
when alas!
She screamed
like there was no end
exploding her lungs,
breaking her aorta
into bits and pieces of hope
because there was the man
standing on the altar
in his untarnished white cloak.
 

Standing on the pavement
shedding tears
would I shun her away
so she won’t see
the man on the altar
waiting
for the woman on the entrance
of the grand hallway
adorned with white petals
happiness
jubilation
spread all over.

Standing on the pavement
reminiscing
passing through the old corridors
embracing the shadows
of the love she once had
loved with all her heart
unconditionally
never doubted
hoped
that one day
it’ll be them
forever.

Standing on the pavement
smiled to herself
when the man on the altar
moved towards her
arms outstretched
like the good old days
when he would squeeze her
tightly tuck her
in his strength
shower her
with kisses
until dawn
inseparable.

Standing on the pavement
ready to run
towards that man
she still fervently loves
after all the hurt
feelings so vivid
so strong
like it was just yesterday
when the two of them
would walk hand in hand
letting the day pass
contented.

Standing on the pavement
she heard applauses
warm greetings
of well-wishers
the clanging of the church bell
brought her back to reality
the wedding is over
so is her life
their eyes met
his was repentance
hers was forgiveness
and love.

Standing on the pavement
alone now
the dream gone
shattered into bits of pieces
so is her heart
so are her hopes
the love she took care of
handled with care
for years
now with someone else
has left her scathed
terribly.

Standing on the pavement
stood stronger
unafraid to follow
another path, away
from the old corridors
they used to pass
filled with their laughter
their plans
echoing in every corner
whispers of love
radiating in every space
everlasting.

Now standing on the pavement
of her new found life
head high
wounds healed
left is just a scar
that may live forever
but only a memory
of a love gone sour,
she strides with pride
great dreams
high hopes
no ending.

This is a Princess’ love story.
Happy ending?
Let’s wait and see…

“God made the earth
and God made the sky,
God made the fish
and birds that fly,
animals, flowers,
trees so tall,
God made everything
great and small,
God made you
and God made me;
thank you God
for everything.”

So you see my child,
God is good
He provided us with
everything that we need.

The earth so fertile
where vegetation grow
where we put up our homes
minerals for us to enjoy
in luxury
and abundance.

There is the sky
that houses elegant stars
gives light to our dark nights
and guide during the day
inspires painters
to capture that grand horizon.

Then the fishes,
birds and animals
in varied sizes, shapes and colors
food for our tummy
and beauty for our eyes
to behold.

Plants, flowers and trees
they shower the land
in magnificence
to nourish mankind,
our senses with serenity
and our souls the scent of calm.

And to complete
the circle of life,
God made us
in His own image and likeness,
in His goodness and majesty
and the will to be.

Perfect explanation, eh!?
So I thought
with all the animations
I can think of,
even if I look stupid
in my nightdress
(less the curves in proper place
and the Mary Kay foundation),
I looked like just the Mom
that I am.

My child’s turn to speak now:
Mom, if God made everything,
all that I see and smell
and touch and taste,
and he created everything
out of nothing,
who then made God?

End of story.
I quit.
Goodnight.
You’ll have my resignation
upon waking up tomorrow.
I can’t give you
a recommendation though
unless there’s one Mom
out there who can answer
your one major question:
Who made God?

To my friends,
I appeal to you
e-mail me the answer, please.
I still want to be
Bea’s Mom.