Well-rested finches perched
on electric lines
held end to end to end
by unending queue of lamp posts—
and there was peace
This was the way you came, right?
Little by little, lips curved into a smile
with it was the sparkle
of pristine eyes and confused teeth.
One day when the wind was slow dancing—
teasing the white and deep pink petals of the neighbor’s bougainvilla to dance with him.
Oh, the bougainvilla flowers which the children plucked
to crush with stones
Mortar and pestle, brewing love potions
Aunts breathed gently. There were no dishes
waiting in the sink
if there were,
a good reason not to do it later
did not exist
Even the dogs found their rest
Lullabies sung to my body
by the twilight
to which cicadas that just awoke would think of harmonizing with.
My eyelids would get heavy as
the five o clock dew tames them
while the orange bulbs of the streets would try
to peep behind the curtains
That were my lashes.
They would not let me sleep that easily—
both city and nature
until the waxing moon
finally got to whisper to my ear—
The sun has a surprise for you
as you travel to tomorrow
I know, one day,
I will wake
if I were coming from the dreams
or from the imaginings
of an afternoon nap.
But I won’t even think long about it
Because it’s not that important anymore
and you will just be a thought
that I cannot completely remember
and cannot completely
Your memory will be stacked under new joys
and childish running arounds in the classic game of tag and
giggles in an afternoon full of riddles made and riddles answered and riddles laughed at
by friendly cousins.
I will forget you.
I wish. Maybe.
Like the scar on my elbow
I still seem to discover
every single time I notice it
You are like my drawings
of pencil and crayons—
roses, sky blues, violets.
a picture of colors
outside the boundaries of lines.
Not that beautiful, but
by the time I finish it,
It will be lovingly perused
Taking it closer, farther, then closer again...
proudly taping it on the wall, showcasing to everyone—
A master piece.
The shapes—not what was expected.
In a perspective,
In the perspective of a small I—
You were adored.
If I were to finally fall asleep...
there would be a need to let go
of my favorite toys—
my pencil and my papers—
Maybe like my paper boats, folded and creased,
gently stroked by palms,
letting it sail away on the rain water
until it gets to some great river
until it is lost in sight
and cannot be pursued.
Out there. Uncharted.
As for me, I will fall asleep tired from playing street games
but never again from sorrow.
CHRISTIAN FAITH NAVARRO is a radio producer from the Philippines. She writes poetry, some of which can be found on Tumblr at nowfaith.tumblr.com.