by Abner Dormiendo
Until recently, this is all we do: sympathize.
I always knew if our soul is in an analogy of the world,
it would be the ocean, and our bodies the shoreline.
I cross a threshold where I can claim a foreign sadness
as my own, and all I had taken home are words
until recently, this is all I did: write poems
with borrowed words, take somebody’s grief
and magnify it into dangerous proportions
as if anybody with hands can do that.
As if anybody with a soul has the right to do that.
Until recently, I thought I am greater than grief
but see, I am selfish, I am proud. I thought
I have a spirit bigger than death can grasp, thought
I can gather the sea in my palms without drowning
but there is nothing I could do to bring you back.