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My friend and I had a lengthy discussion about serious matters this morning.  We recalled tough times and I can’t help but admire my friend for her endurance, fortitude and absolute faith in God. Before we said goodbye, I told her it’s a Good Friday’s topic and she agreed grimly. We reminded ourselves that after the agonizing Crucifixion, comes the glorious Resurrection.   

I was in high school when I first read the poem “Footprints in the Sand” and the song that became very famous in many religious retreats and recollections. We have been in the same situation as the man in the poem and all God wants from us is to believe and have faith.

One night a man had a dream.

He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Scenes from his life flashed across the sky
and he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
one belonging to him and the other to the Lord. 

When the last scene of his life had flashed before him,
he recalled that at the lowest and saddest times of his life
there was only one set of footprints. Dismayed, he asked,

“Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,
you’d walk with me all the way.
I don’t understand why, when I needed you most,
you would leave me.” 

The Lord replied, “My precious child.
I love you and I would never leave you.

During your times of trial and suffering
when you saw only one set of footprints…

That was when I carried you.” 

Carolyn Joyce Carty ©

I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from here to there” and it will move.

Matthew 17:20

The sun just slipped its note below my door
And I can`t hide beneath my sheets
I`ve read the words before so now I know
The time has come again for me

And I`m feeling the same way all over again
Felling the same way all over again
Singin the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend

Another day that I can`t find my head
My feet don`t look like the`re my own
I`ll try and find the floor below to stand
And I hope I reach it once again

And I`m feeling the same way all over again
Felling the same way all over again
Singin the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend

So many times I wonder where I’ve gone
And how I found my way back in
I look around awhile for something lost
Maybe I’ll find it in the end

And I`m feeling the same way all over again
Felling the same way all over again
Singin the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend

~ By Nora Jones

It’s all I have to bring to-day,

It’s all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget, –
Someone the sum could tell, –
This, and my heart, and all the bees
Which in the clover dwell.

 Wild nights–wild nights!

Wild nights–wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
our luxury!

Futile the winds
To heart in port–
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden–
As the sea!
Might I moor, tonight,
In thee!

~~ Emily Dickinson ~~

For a dear friend who knows the reasons why I love metaphors.

San Jose de Buenavista, Antique

I caught an early flight to IloIlo City last Wednesday. Forty five minutes after the plane took off, this image was in my window seat. I couldn’t capture the impressive image with my digicam because of the flash. My cellfon’s camera was the last option.

It was not a perfect shot. But in the horizon, as the plane descended above the historic island of Panay, a new day was breaking. The beginning of another unforgettable adventure.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
rendering me with the color of its countries,
compels death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

– e.e. cummings –

Magkahawak-kamay tayong bumati
sa ragasa ng mga alon,
tumapak sa marurupok na kabibeng
nabiyak nang tahimik sa buhangin.

Magkahawak-kamay nating tinanaw
ang balangkas ng bundok sa malayo
samantalang gumagapang
ang kilabot ng lamig sa ating bisig—
hindi na natin pag-aalabin pa
sa matinding paghapit.
Mag-iingat lamang na hindi na muling
maging mabibigat na lubid
ang mga daliring magkakawing.

Magkahawak-kamay nating tatanawin
ang mga tala sa gabi, bubulong ng dalangin
nang malaktawan ang mga banging
laging nag-aabang sa ating pagkadupilas,
mga ngipin ng matutulis na bato
sa kailaliman handang-handang sumugat
sa ating hapong sakong sa munting pagkalingat.

Magkahawak-kamay na hindi aalagatain
ang pagkalanta ng kay raming rosas,
pagkalusaw ng bloke-blokeng tsokolate
sa bulsa at handbag sa nangakaraang
Araw ng mga Puso—at, sa halip,
mag-iingat sa pagtangan, paghaplos, pag-alalay
upang huwag nang magurlisan ang balat at laman
na umuurong, lumuluwag, lumalaylay
pinupuno ng katahimikan ang sari-saring kagamitan
sa bahay, na sa katagalan, siyang natututong
sa atin mangusap ng iisang litanya—

Maghawak-kamay sa umaga
Maghawak-kamay sa maghapon
Maghawak-kamay, ay, maghawak-kamay sa takipsilim
Tila kabibeng magkadaop-palad sa mga banal na lihim.

—Benilda Santos

You light up another cigarette
and I pour the wine
It’s four o’clock in the morning
and it’s starting to get light
now I’m right where I want to be
losing track of time
but I wish that it was still last night

You look like you’re in another world
but I can read your mind
how can you be so far away
lying by my side
when I go away I’ll miss you
and I will be thinking of you
every night and day just…

Promise me you’ll wait for me
’cause I’ll be saving all my love for you
and I will be home soon
Promise me you’ll wait for me
I need to know you feel the same way too
and I’ll be home, I’ll be home soon

When I go away I’ll miss you
and I will be thinking of you
every night and day just…

Promise me you’ll wait for me
’cause I’ll be saving all my love for you
and I will be home soon
Promise me you’ll wait for me
I need to know you feel the same way too
and I’ll be home, I’ll be home

Promise me you’ll wait for me
’cause I’ll be saving all my love for you
and I will be home soon
Promise me you’ll wait for me
I need to know you feel the same way too
and I’ll be home, I’ll be home soon.

** Promise Me by BEVERLY CRAVEN **

Baby cried the day the circus came to town
’cause she didn’t want parades just passin’ by her
So she painted on a smile and took up with some clown
While she danced without a net upon the wire
I know a lot about ‘er ’cause, you see
Baby is an awful lot like me

Don’t cry out loud
Just keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all

Baby saw that when they pulled that big top down
They left behind her dreams among the litter
The different kind of love she thought she’d found
There was nothin’ left but sawdust and some glitter
But baby can’t be broken ’cause you see
She had the finest teacher-that was me-I told ‘er

Don’t cry out loud
Just keep it inside and learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all

Don’t cry out loud
Just keep it inside and learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost made it

Don’t cry out loud
Just keep it inside and learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all

DON’T CRY OUT LOUD
By Melissa Manchester

II

This beast that rends me in the sight of all,
This love, this longing, this oblivious thing,
That has me under as the last leaves fall,
Will glut, will sicken, will be gone by spring.
The wound will heal, the fever will abate,
The knotted hurt will slacken in the breast;
I shall forget before the flickers mate
Your look that is today my east and west.
Unscathed, however, from a claw so deep
Though I should love again I shall not go;
Along my body, waking while I sleep,
Sharp to the kiss, cold to the hand as snow,
The scar of this encounter like a sword
Will lie between me and my troubled lord.

- Fatal Interview (Collected Sonnets) by Edna St. Vincent Millay