At first glance, Lamberto Antonio’s “Pastol” feels like stepping into an Amorsolo painting. You know the ones – golden light, carabaos in rice fields, that idealized Filipino rural life we’ve all seen in museums.
Poetry
Night Swimming by April Pagaling I practiced hurtlike how pearls are cultivated,methodically, with attention,this art of controlled wounding. I too became skilledin the art of turning trauma lustrous.This is how: first,you learn to treasure what hurts you,learn how beautiful things comefrom bodies in distress. But the ocean knows better.It knows the differencebetween cultivation and calcification,between keeping and containing.The pearls do…
The Witness by April Pagaling (in reply to “Wala Nang Tao sa Sta. Filomena”) You stand in the stubbled field,a scarecrow stripped of its purpose,shirt faded to the hue of stillborn harvests.January light knifes sideways,spilling shadows longer than your body, stretching beyond the moment of its making. I have witnessed this scene before.Escalante’s fencepost scarecrowdraped in a dead man’s shirt, arms splayed.Lupao’s…
The flower openswithout violence. This is whatI learned in elementaryhow resistance livesin softness.I stand in the kitchen, watchingpetals drift into my teacup,thinking of mother’s handsfolding white sheets,how they will yellowwith time. Everything palebecomes something else.In dreams, I am notthis daughter who changeswithout permission. I amthe space between what shesaved and what she lost.She told me once:to preserve a floweryou must…
The absence of connection burns differently than the absence of touch. A poem about loneliness and how two bodies can share a bed while their hearts inhabit separate countries.
Walking around in Sagada and finding this beautiful spider web. A meditation on grief and finding comfort in unexpected places and a reflection on rebuilding and survival.
The chill of January mornings in Marinduque and navigating the cold, thinking of unspoken young love. Discover how the Sea of Clouds intertwines with the warmth of a fleeting smile in this introspective poem.
Your Name is a poem written by April Pagaling about memory and the inadequacy of language to capture the depth of human emotion. It invites readers to reflect on the universal experience of love and loss, and the way we all, in our own way, are “cataloguing departures.”
A deeply personal exploration of mothering a child with bipolar disorder. This poem captures the quiet moments of nighttime vigilance, exploring themes of maternal love, anxiety, and hope. Part of the “Modern Motherhood” poetry series.
On August 16, 2017, 17-year-old Kian delos Santos was accosted by police during a drug raid, and later shot. Investigations revealed he was unarmed despite police claims. CCTV footage cleared him of the accusations. Kian was one of thousands killed in Duterte’s drug war. —GMA News, Philippines The boy in mid-step,feet barely touching pavement.Once, he was in color, as he…