Subject A

There may be stories I can share
though I choose not to – oh no, I can’t tell you 
how I had life back and forth 
Philippines or America as if I had wings 
covering my children I made 
sure had degrees to get 
them through life – can’t
tell you how my emotions after my eldest 
moved out irritated at my
existence and chose marriage 
I was a lioness deserted
by her already grown young 
for another pack – can’t show
you how I carried a bag or suitcase
with their pictures so I can be
brave everyday – can’t
even narrate how me 
and my husband laughed
as our faces were captured 
with Disneyland being 
the backdrop of our snow-colored
hairs – can’t fathom how 
he smiled when our granddaughter
appeared in the webcam 
and said she wanted to see 
us in person – can’t tell her
that wasn’t possible for her 
own grandfather to make it back
without carrying his ashes in an urn 
as if it was just another balikbayan
box filled with spam and Libby’s we sent 
in the middle of summer – how heartbroken 
our grandchildren after he turned  
into ashes contained in an urn – in Taguig
I imagine the days I can’t say anything 
when they look for him – can’t form
any words on how complicated to see 
him go – need to accept this world
we travel all over - no, they’ll never know 
I struggle to fit and explain all of these 
details into one.

Remember

On an afternoon too hazy, my granddaughter brandished
a magnifying glass in search of gold, whereas my daughter 

wailed like an infant abandoned in the house. She stood
there, wide-eyed, sullen, and bewildered – how her own 

daughter dealt with each blow of her hand, slipper, buckle, 
and hanger. A distance so sudden emerged between them, 

she almost witnessed the splitting of the land into islands 
estranged, far flung, or unnavigated. When I reminded her 

to be strong after her love disappeared, I didn’t mean 
to take it through each slap, punch, or tight pull of her 

daughter’s arms and hair. Her tears seemed unending with
her body shivering with questions of redemption. How 

could I not absolve her again? Outside, my granddaughter 
looks happier I swear I saw the sun erase her bruises how 

God moved His hand to wake the earth right after wildfire.