Chasing Your Hand

I often asked you why

between us, I am the one 

to chase your hand, hold it

firmly and not let go.

I never did get a simple note

to help me peer into your mind.

You were enjoying your silence

and my confusion.

It is easier now to catch

your hand as the years piled up,

your steps and gait slowing down.

I just wait for your hand

to hold onto my love, my arm.

Clean As You Go

 

How can I disconnect from a network

of memories stretching across a cubicle,

enclosing time like a fossil buried in one's brain?

In the age of cable-less or wireless,

is it by tapping a smartphone's screen

to cut the signal off, as if cutting an umbilical cord?

On my own now, disconnected,

access-less, after unloading what is left

from the task list on the digital note pad.

I transferred all the remnants and pieces

of thoughts stored in the secure drawer

of my mind to my long-term memory.

I believe in compliance, in integrity,

in office decorum, just like the sign 

'clean as you go' as I exit the glass door

into the world of ‘them’ and ‘me’.

What is Death?

Death is when you meet your mama's or papa's eyes

but they do not stare back. They are looking elsewhere,

even past you.

Death is when you hold your brother's or sister's hand

and the warmth has left, as if winter season has come

but there is no spring season to bring cheer next.

Death is when you wait forever outside of a recovery room

but there is no news, and your heart beat goes faster

until death exits the room.

Death is when your friend sees death in the doorway

and he is at a lost whether to choose to cry or say good-bye

with dignity.

Death is when you are grieving for the lost and 

everything else around you is merry, and in the mirror

there is only you.

Death is when you hate good-byes, and the old memories

rush in, pouring like a downpour. The loneliness bites you

while they are still alive.

This Far

 I am grateful to have the strength

to reach out to your hand and hold it,

to power my legs and knees

while walking leisurely on the beach, sunset-lit.

 

I am thankful to have the clarity

of vision to still witness your smiles,

and with ears sensitive to your laughter

while the sea keeps coming back to our feet.

 

How I love our memory that goes a long way

back from where we began, and every now

and then ask if you still recall the feeling,

the thrill of confession!

 

Oh how we have come this far,

like a precious Chinese bowl with gold

in all its cracks.

To love you imperfectly

I may not be the best man
you have ever met

amidst the downpours
of your life's trials

because all I can offer is
to love you imperfectly.

I may not be your knight
in shining armor

come to slay the dragons
that trouble you

because all I can offer is
to love you imperfectly.

Your memories of me
maybe full of failings

but forgiveness is 
a sweet potion to my soul

because all I can offer is
to love you imperfectly.

The Things to Miss About You

How about the eyes that found me, and lingered
within the radius of my stare, locking eye to eye,
unembarrassed by the moment?

Or, how about the smile that dented your cheeks,
breaking out like a new day, teeth white as the sun?

What of the hands that served coffee brewed
on my table, the aroma sweet like your scent,
floating in the air, your hair close to me?

Or that glaze in your skin, when my fingers slide 
from your shoulder down to your fingers?

How about the warmth of your lips, 
lingering, swirling, sniffing, sipping, 
and I savoring them like fine wine?

Oh, your body so close to me,
I, selfishly consuming its heat!

(written for the occasion of our 37th wedding anniversary)

The Roots of my Next Poem

Will I find the poem from someone's eyes

the lines and words flashing bright,

but too quick to be held in my palms?

Will I receive it as a gift in the night

every line, every word, streaming in my dream-

I need to wake up and catch it pass by?

Will I find it in your hands as it held mine,

as I lead you inside a lover's room

to ignite the heart's imaginations?

Or is it the seed I buried in the ground,

that I need to nurture, word by word

line by line?