Cappucino cream

and wrinkled

The scent of rose water feels like home

My hands, dark brown & taught

I wonder if they will one day look like yours Lola

Those hands that traveled the world.

Europe on religious tours.

Israel on religious tours.

The Philippines, a religious life.

Faith, your lifes work.

Faith, a granddaughter’s lost idea.

Lola’s hands locked prayer.

Contentment on your face as we played in your front yard

As we laughed at your dining table.

As you hugged us goodbye.

Lola’s hands, we would ‘Amin you’ once you walked through the door.

bless you, as we were taught to do.

We may not speak tagalog, but we all know the ritual.

“Lolo & Lola are here” someone would call out.

The procession of grandchildren halting their conversations, their games of Street Fighter 2, Contra, or Super Mario Brothers…

“Come on. We gotta go bless Lolo & Lola”

Lola’s hands, so soft at the touch.

Warm as we placed the back of your hand on our forehead,

Followed by a kiss on your cheek.

Your hands hold me tight and I”m bathed once more in your rosewater scent.

Lola’s hands grasping a rose petal scented rosary.

Time for prayer. Time for faith.

Lola’s hands moving the rosary beads as we chant a million Our Father’s, Hail Mary’s, Glory Be’s

Lola’s hands grasping those beads one last time.

Lola’s hands no longer warm to the touch.

Cold. Clammy. gone.

Blessing you one last time wtih my tears.

not wanting to say goodbye to those hands.

my dark brown hands showing signs of aging

Wrinkles creasing in

Looking like the hands I miss with all my heart

Warm

Rose water

Cappucino cream colored

Lola’s hands

we participated in history

where news anchors told the world to remember where they were this day

how a pindrop could be heard in the urban amphitheaters of our cities

how we didn’t want to be alone when we shared that moment

and now

now is the day after

the day after the pomp and circumstance

the day after saying good bye to old foes

the day after we saw a happy couple dance the night away in celebration

it’s the day after and the world is still broken

do we have high expectations?

yes

do we still have an institutionalized system of oppression?

absolutely

do we understand that all the teachings of great women and men are actually true? that I can be president? that I can be a leader? that I can be somebody?

yes

the world may be broken

but the pieces look like shiny new legos

ready to be put together into whatever my imagination takes me

and now

it’s time to play

frilly dresses, tights, & mary janes

uncomfortably sitting in pews

listening to my uncle read scriptures to the congregation

we were the perfect filipino american catholic family

problem was

i simply didn’t believe it all

while i said my prayers & responded to the priest

my heart wasn’t there

i watched my peers, tear up & believe

believe in a lord & savior

believe in the myth, the man, the religion

but as i sat there

i simply couldn’t do it

so i now

i silently watch the crowds sing, pray, and hope

that possibly one day i will too

sleepily on my face

the events of the week

ingrained in the creases of my shoulders

walking

marching

laughing

my souvenir

a sunburnt face

a camera full of memories

& empty pockets

this isn’t my complaint

but a testament to an odd week

an odd week indeed

because i still haven’t learned

how to say

FUCK IT

stress balling up

in a wad between my shoulders

my mind knows to think

FUCK IT

however i find myself

reverting back to my worrisome ways

fucks me

when i should be really saying

FUCK IT

the 28th revolution

instructed me to

let things go

let IT go

and embrace the

FUCK IT

but my shadow pulls me back

losing sight of decompression

causes me to find

smoke sessions

ahhh yes

there it is again

slowly seeping in

laughing it all

and thinking finally

FUCK IT

fuck them

fuck it all

FUCK IT

i could sleep all day

& look to my owner for food, shelter & play

if i were a bird

i’d spread my wings 

& soar to the heavens with a blessed song to sing

if i were a child

i’d laugh and sigh

& not understand how time persists to pass by

but i’m neither a pup, nor sparrow, or kid

a grown up looks at me

from mirrors

dark eyes stare

& i’m all too aware

that i’ve got to let go of some wishes & wants

but my sanity won’t unplug from my personal taunts

and these free flowing words

won’t stop to emit

a personal journey that isn’t complete yet

so i chug along

i pitter patter

& i’ll follow the crooked path til happiness sails on my ladder

but intimidation halts my desire

therapy taught me that i put people on pedastels

that the danger is no one lives up to my high expectations

not even myself

attempts to knock down these towers of accolades

have worked and failed

depending on the person or situation

lifes always a work in progress

hopefully i stay with forward motion

even though my peter pan heart wishes to stay 12

my grown up mind tries to keep up with my growns up responsibilities

it is as it is

and that’s all i can ask for

in her shiny brand new music video

attempting to relate to me

but the glossy nature of my screen

taunts my reality

of bills to pay

mouths to feed

people to love

friends to care about

and laughs to share all around

perhaps it is because i am in post bills paid depression

money in. money out.

that’s the hokey pokey i’m all about

time to find happiness that doesn’t have anything to do with dollar bills

time to find it in where?

that’s the adventure

the call of my silly self fulfilling shills

Tempted by the sights and sounds around me

Meditation & Relaxation

Perplex my mind to the umpteenth degree

Paper cuts, shaving knicks, cuticle blunders

tell me to slow down

But life just won’t let me

The heartbeats like a thousand drums,

Like a marching band on game day,

Like a kid on a sugar high,

Like me without my own supply.

They say SLOW DOWN

I say CAN’T STOP

it’ll come to an end when the balloon pops.

basking in the warm italian sunlight

I hear my father’s voice

recalling the conversation we had the night before I left

“I guess your Lolo was right.

Your children will travel farther than you.

My father never left our home town in the Philippines.

I moved to the States. Left my family behind. Began a family of my own.

And now

Now I’m watching you go…”

I treasure

each step on cobblestone streets

each bite of gelato

each sip of espresso

each coin thrown in trevi fountain

because i know each moment isn’t just for me.

it’s for my family who could only dream

of seeing red, white, and blue and an 8 ringed sun