My Literary Works

Summer

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Spring went, and summer came
without warning.
No gentle unfolding,
nor slow warming of the air.

Summer arrived blazing
just as life always does.
And when fate decides,
some women must be both sun and shade.

Four children orbiting her days,
two with hearts that carried tears of one goodbye,
two whose laughter arrived way later
like unexpected summer rain.

In court, her voice stood firm
like a tree that had learned
how to grow through stone.
She was a tree… She was a sturdy tree.

Who softened into evenings
to make the four walls of a house into a home.
But some days, the summer heat showed no mercy
with responsibilities stacked as high as noon skies.

But she kept walking forward
through the long bright hours,
carrying all four of us – her gems,
in the wide, determined summer of her heart.

Image from: https://www.thegaragespecialist.com/types-of-oak

Family Ties, literature, Love Thoughts, My Literary Works

Spring

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Image

December of 1951
a babe became proof
that young love could bloom
even when cupboards were empty

A kid born to parents
still children themselves
her giggles and squeals
filling the rooms with light

As the babe grew, more children followed
she learned early to carry
little siblings in her heart
like fragile baskets over rocky paths

She blossomed with hope as her stubborn moss
she was a daffodil… She was a daffodil
pushing through cracks in cold stone
beautiful despite the odds

Photo from: https://www.freepik.com/premium-ai-image/single-daffodil-growing-up-through-crack-concrete_192614220.htm

Family Ties, My Literary Works

Not Just a Writer’s Block

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It cannot merely be writer’s block
when the inkblot dried up
when days turned into months
of unmarked pages
December 2024
was the last.

A letter penned to a mother now gone
the ink thinning, drying up
halfway through the page
as though losing the ink
was the unpaid cost of
loving her.

But I never really…
Truly meant
to stop writing
I never meant
to still the ink
that once flowed freely.

The ink runs in my veins –
carefully traced there
by a mother’s steady hand,
guiding mine
long before I knew
how to hold the pen on my own.

It can’t just be a writer’s block
when all I could do is remember:

My mother never stopped writing –
not through life’s wounds,
not even through its quiet aches.
And if heaven was her gain,
then maybe, the ink she left behind
is mine to carry on.

Family Ties, Love Thoughts

A Letter to My Mother at Christmas

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December 25, 2024

Dear Mama,

Hello, it’s our fifth Christmas without you. I thought I’d get used to not having you around, but lo, grief always has its way of creeping in. In the past years, it usually happened right after Christmas Eve dinner. After the festivities, I would go to my bedroom and cry. This year, it’s a bit different, the sadness and the tears creeped in at 10 o’clock in the evening of December 25th.

I remember Christmases past when you were still with us. You always made a big deal about Christmastime. Sometimes, we’d go on a trip and spend Christmas somewhere else, or stayed in our home city and do things at the mall like watch a movie.

You made Christmas extra special because of your generosity. I’m trying to continue your legacy of giving. I hope I’m making you proud. Continue to guide me from beyond the veil. And thanks for visiting me in my dream the other night. Even now you’re gone, you still have a way of letting me know that everything will be okay.

Merry Christmas, Ma! I love you to the moon and back.

Always,

Your Yenka

Family Ties, Love Thoughts, My Literary Works

Bestie

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Across the miles
you make me smile
I haven’t seen you in a while
so you walked the airplane aisle

A few days spent
were heaven-sent
six years came and went
Oh! How much your visit meant

You always have my back,
you put me back on track
there is nothing we will lack
as we write our friendship soundtrack

As long as we have each other
our love will never sever
though apart, no matter what the weather
we’ll always be together

Family Ties, literature, My Literary Works

Grief

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It still hurts, though I can
talk to you, I can’t
really know for sure
if you hear…

It still hurts, though I can
see pictures of you, I’m
afraid I might forget how it felt
to have you near…

It still hurts, though I can
hear your voice in videoclips,
I would never hear you
say my name again…

It still hurts, though years
have passed it still seems like yesterday
when I heard your last breath
and held you in a last embrace…

What I would do to have you here again.
What I would do to spend a day with you or two.
What I would do to hear you say my name again
What I would do to hear you say “I love you”.

Mama, your Yenka is sailing on but I’m afraid
of the waves and the storms that I might face.
Be my gentle breeze that brings me to safety.
Be my Northern Star that guides me to the next port.

literature, Love Thoughts, My Literary Works

Celestials

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In the ethereal dance
of the celestials,
the sun and the
moon see their boon

When distance that separates
lessens, until it vanishes
through an eclipse’s kiss
finally, the sun is with his moon

Yet, Father Time always has its way
the sun and moon
wake up on the day
when they have to soar

To their appointed places in the sky…
Sun sleepily treading at dawn
Moon gaily dancing out at twilight
The invisible red string stretches in their ballet

‘Til that fateful day
when yet again the red string
of fate loops and swirls
into an arabesque

Sun to her moon
Moon to his sun
let Time pass
eventually, you’ll become one.

literature, Love Thoughts, Society

Cien Sonetos de Amor: XVII (No te amo como si fueras rosa)

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de Pablo Neruda

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber como, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
Te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño. 

Family Ties, literature, Love Thoughts, Mama's Writings, Society

The Agony of Waiting

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Written by my late mother, Imelda G. Nartea, October 3, 1993

Lorena was never so happy except on her wedding day.  It was a day of fun, love and enjoyment.  She did not realize that only one week after she shared bliss and happy moments with her husband, he would be called back to active duty south of the Philippines.

With tears in her eyes , Lorena said goodby to Roberto at the airport.  “Take care of yourself, I will always pray for your safe return”, was all that she could say.

“Don’t cry anymore, I’ll be careful and I will write as soon as I get to Cotabato,” Roberto countered. Then it was time for him to go and board his plane.

Lorena went home with a heavy heart.  She couldn’t understand why their happy days together could be over so soon.  She tried looking over the house which Roberto’s parents gave them as a wedding gift.  Everything was in order – she couldn’t ask for more.  She really married well.  

Weeks passed.  Roberto’s first letter caught her tending to her garden plants and flowers.  She wiped her hands and ran to the gate to receive the letter from the mailman.  

Reading his letter, Lorena couldn’t help but long for her husband.  She learned that they would be going on operations in the mountains of Cotabato.  Her heart started to beat faster.  She felt the same ache she first felt when Roberto took his leave for this new assignment.  She went to the window and sat forlornly – wishing her husband home, wanting him not to be a member of the PNP anymore.  Absentmindedly, she prayed, “Dear God, please let my loved one come home – keep him safe for me.

That night in her sleep, Lorena dreamt of war and she saw her husband shot.  She screamed and she woke up.

The following day, news broke in the radio that many PNP and AFP soldiers were wounded in some Cotabato encounters.  Lorena felt the same ache again.  She could not take it any longer.  She tried calling her parents and her parents-in-law.  They haven’t heard from Roberto either.  When the day was almost over and no word came from his headquarters, Lorena could no longer take the agony of waiting.  She finally decided to go to church at 5:00 p.m.

She prayed like she has never prayed in her entire life.  She implored the Lord to keep her husband safe and to let him return to her.  After over an hour in church, Lorena walked home.

All of a sudden, tears flowed from   her eyes.  She could not help but remember the happy times she had when Roberto was still courting her – the roses and love songs and chocolates, and ice cream.  She arrived home tired and feeling empty.  She barely touched the food which her househelp prepared for her that night.  

She went to bed still worried and afraid.  But this time she has found new strength in the Lord; she hopes her husband was safe and he’ll soon return.

Days passed and still no word came from Roberto’s headquarters – he had been one of those missing from the Cotabato encounters.  But Lorena felt deep in her heart that her husband was safe and soon she will be surprised of his return.

A month after the fateful day, the telephone in Lorena’s house started ringing and she rushed from her bedroom to the living room.

“Hello,” she said hesitantly, she felt her heart pounding.

“Lorena! This is Roberto,” came the sound from the telephone receiver.

“Oh, where are you? Are you okay?” she said, her tears racing through her cheeks.

“I’m at the airport and I’m on my way home.  I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I love you, sweetheart, don’t cry anymore.” Then Lorena barely hear his goodbye as she replaced the receiver.

Lorena felt like she was being married again.  She uttered a prayer of thanks and she tried to make herself beautiful for the arrival of her month-lost husband.

Love Thoughts, My Literary Works

Babe

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For a time, you were the first person I’d tell
about things going well at work,
I’ll text you and say,
“Hey!”

(Details of accomplishment. This and that),
to which you’d reply,
“That’s great! I’m so proud of you. Let’s celebrate!
Dinner? I’ll fetch you from work. I’ll be on my way.”

“Babe, I did something great today.”
Now, I just I tell you in my mind
as tears trickle from my eyes
because now, you won’t even say, “Hi!”