yesterday, as I hopped from isle to isle
first stop Bulalacao, darling town of Mindoro;
a thrilling ride on the hills overlooking the sea
to be at a nestled resort haven for the peace-hungry;
my father of seventy declared how blessed he was to have lived to see this day, and we feasted on roasted pork crabs, and noodles. I sang John and Paul’s In My Life on the karaoke and rode the ship for Caticlan, gateway to the famous Boracay. At one hour past midnight I waited for dawn for my flight, Visayan chill I savored over ginger tea. My plane left as I looked
at the white and silver sands. One of these days said I, I’ll be back and do more than see. In Manila, I arrived and joined the clan of hundreds, listened to Great Aristeo speak of Nanay Irene and Mamay Isko with ten children they lived with unsurpassed unity. Misty-eyed all who heard him speak and happy they came to hear and see. And I, who pledged in January to write verse everyday, I failed; all energy spent, no sleep for hours, and worried silly. No poem can be as good as this day of revelry. Life happens and we know love matters more, yes love matters more than all the poems, all the poems, that could ever be.