The ones who live are at lost
Of the joys of living. The ones
Who dwell, and continue to strut
Are those who carry Sorrow on
Their tired backs. As they ache for
Closure, the Universe plays with
Their fate. They drag their tired
Bodies, struggling to move
Forward. Struggling to reach
For the sunset. No. They don’t
Get the privilege to leave. They
Are force to stay and rot within.
The ones who live die, always, as
The sun rises.
Sums is a former English teacher who decided to leave all her baggage in the institution, and sail away to the universe-knows-where to chase her long overdue dream.
I am in love with you
And I don’t have any plan
Hiding it. I have loved
You now, I have loved you
Ever since. Right before we
even knew that love exists
Between us. The kind of
Love that vacates the world’s
Complexities. The kind of love
That echoes beyond time, beyond
Essence, beyond anything that
Limits. I have come to seize
the moment of immense recognition
of the love that resides within us;
A frolic butterfly who just emerged
From its hiding.
I thank whatever entity or
Immortal being who made me
Choose to realize that the love I’ve
Been looking for is here, sitting
Sums is an English teacher who decided to leave all her baggage in the insitution, and sail away to the universe-knows-where to chase her firebird.
Nahapinan sa kadulom sa kagabhion
ang hilom nga eskinita diri sa Krustaal
diin makita ang mga borikat
nga mokapyot sa mga posteng guba
nga mao untay modan-ag
sa maong agianan.
Apan imbis makasaksi ug panglibod
tali sa usa ka borikat ug parokyano,
wa may laing makit-an kundi
ang kadulom sa eskinita taliwala
sa gakipat-kipat nga siris
didto dapit sa Shanghai. Imbis mga bae nga
mabaw ug niluparan ang malantawan
nga gadukoduko atubangan
sa mga hubog didto dapita,
mga gagmayng bata nga gakanta
ug sonata bahin sa paghimugso
sa manluluwas ang makit-an.
Gitunolan ug singko sentabos
Pila kaha ang ihatag nila
kon bae nga gaawas-awas ang dughan ug
galakra sa nipis nga spaghetti ang mga atngal
ang mikanta atubangan nila?
Gidundon nako’g tanaw ang mga naglakat
nga bata, ‘aha kaha ni sila mamaingon?’
Hinaot unta nga dili guba
ang mga poste sa unahan,
aron naay modan-ag sa kadulom
sa ilang baktasan nga eskinita.
Sums, from Ateneo de Cagayan, is a normal student by day, and a majestic Unicorn by night.
Kinapa ko ikaw sa dilim
Sinalat ang bawat korte
ang bawat linya ng iyong
Hinanap ko ikaw mula ibaba
paitaas, hanggang mangalay na ang
mga braso’t kamay sa kakakapa
at mapaluha na lamang sa sakit
pinili pa rin ang kapa-in
at hanapin ka
kahit di sigurado kung na andiyan
kahit na anong pagsalat
sa korte ng iyong mukha
tangos ng iyong ilong
lambot ng iyong mga labi
at tikas ng iyong katawan
hindi pa rin kita mahanap
Nararamdaman mo ba ako?
Hinahanap mo rin ba ako sa dilim
gaya ng paghanap at pagkapa
O di kaya’y umiiwas ka lang?
na sa tuwing mararamdaman mong
maabot ko na, mahahawakan ko na
ay agad-agad kang iiwas
at lalayo ulit?
Sums is an English major at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan. She writes every time Life slaps her in the face. A normal student by day, and a majestic unicorn by night.
I am moving away from home.
Away from clanging pots and pans
of morning rush, from all the sizzles of
preserves deep fried in ancient cooking oil. From
the sudden clings and clangs of plates being
washed nearby to the ticks and tacks of
the old-fashion clock in our living room.
Away from the meaningless yapping of my
mother and how she babbles about my soiled
clothes scattered on the floor that she ends
up washing, the long winding hours of looking
after the store and even away from the morning
routine of my grandmother waking
me up for school or from a bad dream.
Away from the smell of sinigang cooked
for dinner, the sour smell of boiled sampalok
and singkamas and from the familiar
face waiting patiently behind the battered green
door every night.
I am moving away from home and into
the strangeness of age. With no sinigang to
eat for dinner. With no one to
wake me up from a bad dream.
I am moving.
Hoping to find a familiar face waiting
behind the polished wooden door when
I get home late.
Sums is a graduating English major by day and a majestic, black unicorn by night.
It came in early today.
I thought he’d send it later in the afternoon.
Yesterday, he said he was too busy
to look for it.
“It’s somewhere in those boxes of ragged clothes,
old toys, dusty books.
I’ll look for it when I have time.” he said.
I offered a hand in the search, but he shrugged
it off, said he didn’t need it.
He always does that.
I took it out from the tattered box.
It has patches all over it’s dusty carcass.
The laces can’t be tangled together: too short.
But, aside from the little damages, it was okay, till
I turned it upside down; spikes all worn out.
They look more like miniature humps on an
But, again, spikes are spikes. Even if
they would not hold my feet firm
on the ground.
And then it came to me,
was it too big, again, for my size.
“You need not buy a new one.
It’ll suffice. Just use it.” he said, while
carrying Tita’s bag, one Sunday afternoon.
He’s always like that;
passing hand-me-down shoes to me.
I’d accept it though. And use them during play-offs.
I’d run in marathons, play in ball games, wearing
shoes twice the size of my feet.
And as always, I’d fall short.
“Your shoes are too big,” they said, “try these on.
I think we’re of the same size.”
I’d shrug them off. “I don’t need it.” I’d say.
And continue with what I was doing, in
my dad’s shoes.
But this time, I didn’t like the idea
of running around the diamond, with loose pair
of studs. So I decided to try it on. If it didn’t fit,
I’d buy a new one: the pair of my choice.
I slid my right foot in,
same goes with the other.
they fit perfectly.
Sums is a graduating Education student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan.
One hot afternoon, by a window that opened to a meadow, Marco sat. Hair uncombed, beard unshaved, still wearing his Silliman University shirt, smothered with black ink. He was almost finished writing the last chapter of his latest story when Don Alfonso came in, a glass of brandy in hand.
“Oh, hijo, are you writing in your ridiculous diary again? Wasting your time trying to encapsulate your thoughts? Ha!” Don Alfonso exclaimed while walking around Marco’s room, kicking away soiled clothes strewn on the wooden floor.
“You can’t even clean your own room. What will my amigos and amigas say when they see this? The son of Don Alfonso Aguerre, a wealthy, well-known haciendero, untidy! What? You don’t put your used clothes in the laundry area. You have all day… wait, all year to do so! Yet you spend all your days scribbling nonsense! … Why, you are no different from the pigs found in our farm! You are hopeless, son. Hopeless.”
Continue reading Ink
You are not the
size of the shirt you wear
nor the waistline that you have
You are not the
pimples on your face
nor the wrinkles under your tired eyes
You are not the
tangled hair of your head
nor the crooked front teeth when you smile
You are not the
hurtful words they say
nor the hateful things they think you are
You are the crocus that blooms
beautifully during spring
You are the stars
that shine so bright
when the night sky is clear
You are the sun
that gives life
to everything beneath it
You are the entire
universe to someone
you probably don’t even know it
Sums is currently a 3rd year student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan