Be with Me.

When I learn
about humanity
Outside the house
Father,
I intend to keep it.

I will be called naiive
I will be plastered with disdain and filth
I might die drowning
in the middle of chaos
But you can never save me
from my oath for
Peace

All the more
I am in need of you
My true
Hero
So change, Father
if unable,
I beg you to pray for me

I learned what humanity is
It is devoid of a form
It is everywhere
Every single place
that God touched with
His Compassion.

So I shall be
what I intend to be
With
or
without
You
My Father.

The Third Party-Goer.

We are capturing
each other
with our
Eyes.

Words that come
out from hiding
have always
been
There.

Say it, friend
when truth is dancing
between us
Who leaped with
Joy
the most?

Let me hold
your hand
in this Threesome
meeting
Who is that holding
the other?

Hafiz.

I am currently reading Hafiz, the sufi from Persia. His poems affected me like no other. Even sometimes comparable to that of Rumi. Or, even better.

He is such a bold writer, true to his convinction, and rather playful - which makes it more fun reading him. I will reproduce here my favourite poem of his:

The Sun Never Says.

Even
After
All this time
The sun never says to the earth

"You owe
Me."

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the
Whole
Sky.

From Ipoh to Ipanema.

7am
She strolled down the isle
Her gaze never ahead
To the left
to the right
I watch her intently
her lips twitching
and her hand reddened from weight
of fruits and vegetables

7:05am
She stopped by
like her eyelashes
we never meet
not even in the thinnest of time
parted by north and south

7:07am
She passed by
leaving me
singing the bossa nova of Ipanema
comparing the melancholic move of the servant girl
I met in Ipoh
Filling time with space
and space with her.

I want to be.

I want to be a tree
that continues to grow
leaf by leaf
every single day

This tree
because the leaves
put so much weight
the trunk shrinks
pulling it down
closer, and closer to
earth

when it dies
it dies green
and so close to earth
there will be no need
for a burial

I'm home
to the Maker
fulfilling purpose
that He made me see.

Book Crossing.

Imagine a travelling gnome.

You see it in Madrid.
Someone pick it up and travels to Brazil for spring break.

Then the person left the gnome again, this time by a blind musician in a park. And it continues to travel, as people like you and me find him.

Someone exchange the idea of the gnome with books.
Leave a book on a bench.
See where it ends up.

www.bookcrossing.com

Dear mamita, light of my life,

I hope you’re taking care of yourself well, and that the medicines serve you punctually and faithfully. For my love never ceases to surround you especially where my presence had failed.

I am more than almost always happy. I had seen two potential organisations that are best for my career advancement. Personally I prefer one from the other, where I believe I can find peace of mind and torch of my passion. But peace of mind is a luxury, and it shouldn’t be my priority now.

Today I read about Che Guevara, mamita. I fell in love with his adventures, oh how I want it to be mine. You know how we always talk about men who are true to themselves, the ones who are real, and he is so real. His father wrote about him, through a worn out diary that he found, literally saved minutes before eaten by fire.

It saddens me the way he told me about his son, mama. By the time, Che Guevara was already dead. And the father discovered the man that his son was through his writings. How painful to bear a longing that he can never quench.

I learned from him that life is found with unstoppable feet, hungry stomach, and sane mind. They drive us to be mad about discovery. Didn’t He make everything for each to be unveiled?

Would you let me be your Che, mamita?

Su