The Witching Hour

It’s 3 am.

I wake up to the monotonous sound of the fan. An unpleasant feeling starts to claw its way out of my chest and I begin to understand why they call this time of the day ‘the witching hour’.

Perhaps because here, in the quiet, we get to sit side by side with the unknown. That feeling of being sad, anxious, drained and lost for no apparent reason. Or maybe we simply just can’t pinpoint.

Many times I have put my heart out only to end up more dejected. You see, when you have all the reasons to be happy, people think you can’t feel otherwise. When you do, they ask you why. As if I am not as equally frustrated finding out the reason myself.

Somebody once told me that perhaps I’m being ungrateful. I have caring friends and family. A stable job. A pile of books. A passion in writing and exploring the outdoors. I have found love and life. So why would I not be okay?

I look to my left hoping that the bare wall knows the answer. It does not. An hour has passed yet there is still a clamor in my head. I want to go out for a long walk. But I fear they might burn me like they did to witches.

Carousels

All my life I’ve suffered from motion sickness. Take me on a car or bus ride and I’d know right then what’s bound to happen. Once, on a van ride home, I tried to withstand it. A few kilometers passed and I started feeling weird as if the butterflies in my stomach wanted to break free. My throat went dry and the air left my lungs gasping. One, two, three. I started counting. I thought I’d make it to ten but I was already throwing up at five. Experts said motion sickness is caused by mixed signals sent by our inner ears and our eyes to our brain. Well whatever it is, curse it.

There is a reason why I love long walks and hate the rides. But carousels are an exemption. For ours was a carousel ride. Your love took this heart round and round and round. You sent my butterflies flying in an uneasy state. My inner ears and eyes were sending mixed signals to my brain. My ears — they heard my scream and told my brain this needs to stop. My eyes — they’re drawn to you and told my brain it is time that needs to stop. Unable to comprehend, the air left my lungs gasping. One, two, three. I started counting. But then you held my hands and I lost count of the numbers. The world stopped turning and the hour hands paused.

I love the carousel but I also want it to end. I want us to go north to see the beaches, south to hike the mountains. I want a destination not just a merry-go-round. I want commitment not just falling in and out of love. But if you ask me on a carousel ride, I’d still take it. I’d withstand motion sickness until you decide to make this a journey instead of running round and round.

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Facebook reminded me that I wrote this piece two years ago this day. In 2017, I attended the two-day Cebu Literary Festival x Komiket event. Back then, my world was only limited to the four corners of my room or the pages of my books. It was a crucial year of existential crisis, all bottled up for so long. I struggled to find purpose and failed. It felt like I was functioning on auto pilot every single day and the only thing that would separate me from a robot would probably be poetry. Reading through my old poems, I could see how I was in a chaotic emotional mess. A hopeless romantic. An anxious human being trying to recreate her world through words. This piece is just one of those. I wrote it while listening to spoken word artists performing in front of me. In my mind I wanted to take the stage and express. In my heart, I just knew I can’t.

PLOT TWIST: Fast forward to 2018, I found myself onstage stuttering to the words of Pasabta Ko Palihug, a spoken word in my local dialect. Time flies! 😀

Share Your World – Introspections

So, I’ve decided to join the fun at Melanie’s Share Your World Challenge. Here’s for the first week of July.

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Would (or do) you stop to help (presumably) stranded folks by the side of the road?

As an empath in nature, I would. Of course this does not mean that I don’t feel a tinge of fear or distrust, but I still want to believe that there is goodness in each of us. That, despite all the negativities, people can be kind to one another.

Do you think the world is less mannerly today than in past times OR are we just more touchy and manners are as they’ve always been?

Truth is I’m morally scarred. I would not zoom out to the rest of the world because even just the current situation of the people here in my country, the Philippines, is enough to trigger my cynicism. There is a prevalent disrespect for women and much more disregard for life in general. All these are led by none other than the head of the state. His brand as a populist leader has enticed many Filipinos. Whatever he says, believes or does, people will follow. His rape jokes ripple throughout the country and his bloody war ensues at the expense of the poor.

The Philippines has gambled for an actual medicine-man to cure the nation but I fear that we might have taken the wrong prescription.

What happens if you’re scared half to death, TWICE?
HA! I wouldn’t even try to do the math but I’d probably end up doing the first thing I always do when something scares me: freeze.

If ALL the world’s a stage, where does the audience sit?
This reminds me of a piece I wrote one the first Monday of July a year ago. Maybe life is one big stage, maybe it isn’t. But one thing is for sure, we all have a part to play. The audience don’t just get to sit.

Share your thankful comments here. It’s a gorgeous day most places, so celebrate!

I’m grateful to God for surrounding me with beautiful people who keep me anchored to life. My family, for being my strength and motivation; my friends, for reminding me that the beauty of life can also be found in people; and the boyfriend, for sticking through my anxieties, mood swings and existential days.

I’m grateful for the comfort I find in words whenever I read or write. To my books, for taking me to different worlds; and to blogosphere, for allowing me to have my own little world. As most of my friends here in WordPress know, I haven’t been writing much — by writing I don’t mean blogging about my escapades out in nature. What I mean is gone are daily poems and flash fictions.

This is why I am also grateful to Melanie for this prompt. SYW for me is a chance to introspect. It allows me to get in touch with my inner self and my muse. Who knows, one day, writing may come easy. 🙂

Snippet: Another ‘what if’

What if love is not just about falling? We romanticize so much this act of tripping, slipping, losing control and crashing into another person that we forget that love isn’t always a downward act. It is should not be qualified as sacrificial to the point of self-destruct. Because you see, the beauty of love is not only seen in our collapse, but in how it builds the best version of ourselves. It’s not just about what we give up but how we lift our person up.

“I’ll take care of myself for you and you’ll take care of yourself for me.”

Isn’t that a beautiful thing?

 

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I was skimming through my unpublished posts when I came across this draft. A while ago, I had a conversation with a friend on whether or not we should quantify love by the amount of material, time, attention, effort, and sacrifice we give and receive. We had opposing opinions on the matter but it made me reflect a thing or two about relationships. This is one of those what ifs.

Out of Rich

lying beneath the stars
lulled to sleep by cicadas
waking up to summer mornings
with the song of the birds
this is what happy looks like
this is how we should feel
yes, i may not be rich
yet happiness is on my reach

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In response to dVerse’s Quadrille hosted by Kim who challenges to play around the rich inspiration brought by the word RICH.

Like it or not, we have come to live in a world that is obsessed with possession. One must have this or that — nothing is ever enough. Everything feels like race. We always have to have the next big thing, to be the first in line. We are tricked to think that we need to achieve something momentous, earn and spend bags of cash, quantify happiness with materialism. This is why I treasure life’s simple joys in the midst of all its toxicity. Last weekend, my friends and I decided to go on a night trek and camp at Bocaue Peak (also known as Muffin Peak). Even if it was just for a short span of time, we were away from the thoughts of worldly possessions and one with the natural world.

Head over here to join the prompt!

My Universe in Verse

According to current thinking, the observable universe is about 93 billion light years in diameter. I am no astronomy expert and the likes of Edwin Hubble would probably disagree when I say that there was a time when the universe molded itself into the right shape to fit just two people.

That day we hiked the trail to the peak expecting to find the place crowded with campers. But it was uncommonly empty. Right then my selfish side wished that no one would ever come. Coelho must have known that when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. Because no one did arrive. We had the billion-star accommodation all for ourselves.

I’ve always wondered what they meant when they said that the universe is infinite. Were they referring to the cosmic wonders from without or to those from within? That night we measured trajectories — not of falling comets but of falling hearts. At daybreak, I caught a momentary silhouette backlit by the rising sun. My sunset man. And what astronomers have not observed is this: sometimes all the mysteries of the universe is found in someone’s hand.

the wide universe
seized to be scientific—
poetic, it was

 

 

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In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: The Picnic hosted by Gina who challenges to share some picnic themed poems.

Here’s one of my favorite memories with one of my favorite people. The title is inspired by The Universe in Verse, an annual celebration of science through poetry hosted by Maria Popova at Pioneer Works and The Academy of American Poets

Head over here to join the prompt!

Worry Not

ours was forged by something greater than hands intertwined. remember how time has showed us how small this world is? from poetry, paperbacks, and people, we found each other on the same path. it took years but what is meant to be will always find its way, so they say. so i need you not to worry.

when i find myself
alone beneath the cerulean sky
i will walk without a sigh, carrying thoughts
of mountains, coffee, and your smile

when you find yourself
waking on a midnight as i drift away
in sleep, a deep slumber that you can’t reach
those are dreams of you i’m chasing

when both time and zones
seem to divide and pull us apart
i promise you we’ll get through it
we will navigate the world of adults

ours isn’t perfect and we haven’t figured everything out yet. but we will— piece by piece, day by day, night by night. we will learn and grow together… and separately. because what is meant to be will always find its way. and the universe is on our side.

Trolled trolls

how many mouths must be starved
or epitaphs must be carved
for these blinded trolls to see
past this fractured democracy
this populist and his isms
his ideology of acquiescence
make cage ‘round free birds
and voices unheard—

trolls you’re trolled,
can’t you see?

 

 

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In response to dVerse’s Quadrille hosted by Frank who challenges to put some TROLL with our poems today.

Here’s a short lament for the current state of the Philippines. Sigh.

Head over here to join the prompt!

In a quandary

She sails away in dreams and books
Finds refuge in every empty nooks
But when she saw the babbling brook
It showed her what she overlooked

Though she finds refuge in empty nooks
There is more to life than a storybook
And she finally saw what she overlooked
A laughter, a smile, come take a look

There is more to life than a storybook
More to boring likes and posts on Facebook
A laughter, a smile, come take a look
The mountains wait, lay down your books

More to boring likes and posts on Facebook
More to sailing away in dreams and books
The mountains wait, lay down your books
And heed the call of the babbling brook

 

 

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In response to dVerse’s Poetics: your poetic hum hosted by Gina who introduced us to the Tanpura Principle in writing (the idea that much of writing occurs while doing something else). What is the poetic hum in your life? What hums in the background of your life that inspires you as you unconsciously listen while you work and live? Is the drone always there or do you have to cultivate the inspiration?

As I have found my passion and profession in writing, work does not take much of a toll. But if there is one thing that made me live a dual life, it is the happiness I found in nature. On most days I am torn between slouching on the bed with a book and putting on my bag to explore the outdoors. Sometimes, the book wins. Sometimes, the mountains. It’s like being torn between two lovers. 

Also, linking this up to Poetry Forms – The Pantoum. Other than Quadrille and Haibun, I haven’t written a piece with a poetry form. This is my first with Pantoum. 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!