#singpowrimo #singpowrimoday2 #mykobalbuena With thanks to Alvin Pang for the 6 words again For the eternal repose of the souls of - God never was as real as my grandfathers; Their constant ghosts weighed more than gospels, and Had greater pull. From young I’d known their passing, Accepted it as seas accept the rivers, unquestioning. A wayward child come home. The sea knows not the gravity of water flowing from rich arteries to its heart. The fact of death had no dark connotations, and raised no questions save was there a heaven. My family was never that religious, And only lola clutched her rosary. Which shocked me given that my father knew So much of what to say, which prayer was Most apt for any recent passing thing. What shocked me more was that first April night he asked me if I still remembered it. Remembered what? I asked, harboring guilt. You see? Forgot already. Who will know The birthdays of your lolos once we’re gone? My father always speaks as if he’s dead, As if his days fly by at faster rate Than earth has time to spin one circle round. I cannot speak a word who had forgot; Instead I watched in silence as he took A paper and a pen and fifty dollars, And wrote, in slow and exact handwriting, “For the eternal repose of the souls Of –” my grandfathers. As if these words, and The service held at church, would matter then To people long gone to that better place. What need had they of favours from the earth Who sat so close to God, who’d be the first To see the sun rise at the crack of dawn. “Who will remember these things once we’re gone?” The changing of the guard that must soon come When those who remember ash will turn to ash. With trepidation do I venture forth: Tomorrow must come, tomorrow must come When the burden of the battle will be mine, When I become custodian of their memories.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Apr 2014 14:40:22 +0000
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