Letters from the flower

new compilation of prose and freestyle poetry

I normally try to compile or post the compilation of what I wrote monthly. In case you don't know, I already published one on my blog but because of certain situations, I felt the need to write while I process disappointments and reflect on them.

The title of the compilation is like that because it was written during the time I started to learn to value vulnerability once again. It is also written during the reoccurring circumstances where I felt fragile.

The pain won't got away every time we write or read something but it can be a reminder that moments when we feel disheartened can be occasions where we can create something worth sharing.

Being inspired doesn't have to be exclusively for those who are "in love". It is for every human in every phase of life.

The guest

Words can be weaponizing.

They either redo or undo the hurt.

learning about mankind

in the hardest way possible

I’ve written clauses before

weeks went by

maybe months

They still resonate with me.

Did I drive away the right people

and attracted the wrong ones?

honest emotions

I can’t escape them.

The only way to leave the pain alone

is to be acquainted with it first.

The fright of the past

emerged in the face of the present.

I have to grieve it

in order to part ways with it.

Leaving it in the hands 

Of the One holding the galaxy

where I sojourn.

Letters from strangers

letters from strangers

from a friend of the former days

telling “you’re not alone”

the heavy clouds enveloping us

The recognizable reflection

on the washroom’s mirror

were lachrymose that day.

No sorrow is a desert.

It is a crossroad.

where different people

worlds apart meet

Their ways interweaved

once again.

The stroller

The city lights were fast asleep

but I’m up.

rushing for the sunset

like dusk strollers

I stepped in the door

which I once prized.

I shouldn’t have said that

to myself.

Now, I step out so quickly.

Everything is in a state of flux.

I never had slow middays

but I have guests turned friends

who keeps me company

in my lament.

Long haul

Your apology may be delayed

or it may never come

even in the distant future

but my regard for you is never untimely.

I keep writing metaphorically.

It is probably a way

to make sense of the underwhelming

and overwhelming emotions.

I never intend them to be letters undelivered.

They are footnotes for myself.

Too little

I found myself catching lessons from the most mundane news

but Your sacrifice is the one I held close to my little heart.

I spent the dusk writing instead of escaping

but I was lachrymose the previous midday.

Gladly, I have a safe space.

I found myself encountering my old fears.

I hope I have outgrown them

but I’ll give space to myself in case I haven’t.

The mountains around me are too lofty.

They are too massive.

I can’t wrap them around my arms.

I’m too little compared to them.

My present and my privilege were the hopes of women of the past.

They fought for what I can now relish.

I won’t give up on what I love even though prejudice still prevails because if I do, their efforts will be in vain.

Flower

The piercing space seemingly

became the remotest platform.

What is superficial is never made to last.

Discontentment meets contentment.

What kind of breeding ground did I created?

Now, I stand with taciturnity

while trying to be prudent.

The flower stopped dancing temporarily

the other day.

However, it watched the daylight today.