October 2020 – crafts from the honey pot

The moments in between

In between the rush of work, I found some time yesterday to slow my pace and seek silence. I thought I’d share some rooftop views of the city: on one side, the sun stretching out its rays with a final exhale before meeting the horizon; on the other, the city welcoming a quiet stillness before nightfall.

I often find it hard to sit still. It’s so easy to get caught up in everything and with everyone, especially during these times that require so much delicate attention, reflection, and action. Yesterday and today, I’m spending some time thinking about my own origin story and the labor of my ancestors bringing me to this time and place. What will my own descendants say about today? What do we have the license to rewrite and retell?

twenty-four hours

rise with the sun
as the rooster calls roll
reach for the light
as the petals unfold
shadows stretch forth
cooling earth as seen fit
horizons at bay, unattached,
nondescript
the glow of the moon
shines a light from atop
pacing unmatched,
without pause, without stop
run with the dead
plant the soles in the ground
lay in the soil
in the blackest of sound

Morning Rituals

I open my eyes and stretch out my arms, reaching towards the banig mounted over my bed. I breathe in the soft must of the straw.

I look west to gauge the time. My parol lantern hangs by the window. It’s October, so I’m excited to plug it in, even if Christmas is still two months away.

I grind my coffee beans, plug in my kettle, and shake out my French press, trinkets of luxuries very different from my lola’s Folgers and the pan de sal she taught me to dip.

I brush my teeth with Sensodyne toothpaste, even if I don’t have sensitive teeth. My tita, once a dentist in the Philippines and now a dental hygienist in Australia, insists.

I sit by my desk in front of a bookshelf filled with books my nanay dreamed to one day gift to me. I’ve been building my collection since college.

I get to work on the laptop Nanay bought me after someone broke into my apartment and stole mine. She insisted that I not pay her back.

My coffee is ready. I take a sip and I smile.

Boots and Jorts (Ode to San Francisco)

Boots and jorts, they are
Jeans cut short and badass shoes
For boys, girls, who cares?

A Home like That

What will it take for me to live in a home like that?
A home I couldn't even construct in my dreams
Expansive borders I've never seen
Ceilings that rival my imagination

What will it take for me to live in a home like that?
Gated by leaves perfectly placed one-by-one
Perched above the city
Quietly overlooking the minutiae of bustle and noise

What will it take for me to live in a home like that?
Room reaching farther than any home I've known
Accents polished to a gleam that force my eyes shut
Antiques and silver too hot to touch

What would it take for me to live in a home like that?
More rooms than people to swallow a space
Does it have a guest room for the housekeeper and nanny?
Would they look like me?

Month: October 2020