Light A Candle

by Sch. Weng Bava, SJ

Light a candle
Not the ordinary ones
You can buy from
Outside the Church
Light one that has scent
And intricately carved
(With flowers or anagrams)

Strike a match
And burn your incense oil
Put bouquets in front
Of the Blessed Mother
Open your novena booklets
And chant the Te Deum
(If it has one)

And while you’re at it—
Kneel
And thank God for your kids
That never have to beg
In the alleys until midnight
Thank Him for your warm
Mattress that the baglady
Dreams of every night
Thank Him for the food
On your table that would soon
Find its way to the dump
(For scavengers to feast on)

And beg Him that He
May not take all these away
Until you only have
A kerosene for a candle
A can of lard for incense
And quickly wilting memories
(As garland fit for a Queen)

Ang Panaginip ni Icarus

ni Sch. Weng Bava, SJ

Miminsang nabanggit
ko na sa 'yo ang
napagin'pan kong
pagsasa-ibon mo
kung paanong isang
katanghaliang tapat
bigla mong inunat
ang dalawa mong kamay
at kumampay kang
parang sumasagwan
sa hanging nilalambungan
ng maninipis na ulap

Ibinaling-baling mo
ang iyong tuka nang
pakal'wa't pakanan
tinitiyak kung
may lawing magtatangka
na dagitin ka o ang yong
inakay
nang makuntento--
kinahig mo nang pagka
bilis-bilis ang lupang
'yong kinatitindigan at
nasulasok ng alikabok
ang tigang na paligid

Subalit 'di mo alintana
ni ininda ng bagwis
mong katutubo pa lamang
ang naglalaglagang
butil ng buhanging
nakapupuwing
nanlilisik ang iyong
titig sa naglalagablab na apoy
sa kalawakan
at 'sang saglit pa
pumailanlang kang
parang guryong humulagpos
sa bisig ng mananaranggola

Humahagibis ang pagsibat
sa maugong na langit
habang sa ibaba--naghihiyawan
sa galak at wari'y inggit
ang mga puno ng aguho

Sumisirko-sirko
nagpupumisik sa
nakalululang tarik
sa kinakakanlungan
ng buwan at bituin at araw

Inunat ko ang mga kamay
kumampay sa hanging
parang naglalayag
at unti-unti, sumibol
ang sarili kong bagwis

Paghihintay

ni Gil Donayre, SJ

Hinihintay ko ang pagsikat ng araw,
ang pagsapit ng bagong umaga.

Kinumutan ng makakapal na ulap
ang mga unang silahis ng araw.

Umambon.

Umulan.

Bukas.
Baka bukas.
Uupo ako muli rito.
Mag-aantabay sa wisyo ng langit.

Baka sa darating na araw,
mararanasan ko rin ang
pagbububukang-liwayway.

Simbang Gabi ni Mang Tinong Sintu-sinto

ni Weng Bava, SJ

Alas tres treinta ng umaga
Nagsisimulang gumising
Ang mga kaluluwang pagal
Sa maghapong paggawa
At pagbubungkal
Na kung anu-anong maaaring
Ipantawid gutom
O ibalabal man lang
Sa katawang nanginginig
Sa ginaw at nanlilimahid sa
Hilahil

Sa sulok niyang angkin
Matatanaw ang yayat niyang
Katawang hinahagupit ng sasal
Ng ubo ng tuberculosis
Subalit matamang nakamasid
Sa patay-sinding liyab ng
Isang libo’t isang bumbilyang
Pula
Berde
Asuldilawputi
Kumikislap ang mga matang
Wala ni isang pikit
Manghang-mangha sa grupong
Nakapalibot sa sanggol na hubad

Ito ang hari, ito naman ang prinsipe
Narito ang duke, ang pastol at ang mga ale
Sa banda roon may kabayong ngumunguya
Sa kanan ay tupa o kambing yata
Ang mag-asawa, nahihiya sa mga bisita
Sa bubong naman ay may anghel
Kumpleto na, kumpleto na!

At ako, ako ang tagapalis ng langaw
Tagabugaw ng lamok na magtatangkang
Lumapit sa Niñong Bathala

Titilaok ang manok, babalik sa kama
Ang mga nagsipamili ng puto bungbong
At siya, magbabantay, maghihintay
Hanggang magsimbang gabi muli
Mamaya, mamaya

Isang Paalala

ni Doc Atoy Salazar, SJ

Katawan ko ay patpat
Palarang damit makintab
Inilawang makislap
Nang matanaw ng lahat

Tala akong kasama
Nagbigay liwanag sa
Tatlong magong banyaga
Hanggang sabsabang aba

‘sang kuwebang ubod dilim
‘sang amang walang kimkim
‘sang Inang Birhen mandin
‘sang sanggol, Diyos natin

S’yang musmos na Dakila
Anak ng Mahiwaga
Niñong tanglaw sa dilim
S’yang kaligtasan natin

Mula sa araw na ‘yon
Magpasahanggang ngayon
Ako’y nagpapaalala
Sa araw na sinilang Siya.

A Manger's Thoughts

by Atoy Salazar, M.D., S.J.

From an unnamed wood
Had I been born,
What once sturd’ly stood
A tree now meekly torn.

My rough-grained boughs
Four walls did build,
A floor that’s small
Roof open to the wind.

In this cold of night
I was not meant to be
The bearer of cool hay
For the ox and ass around me.

Instead I was to humbly hold
In my smoothened box’d bark,
With dry yarns of grass of gold
A tiny babe Who conquered the dark

His little body,
The Word enfleshed
Mankind’s salvation’s glory,
A Son most richly blest.

And so indeed my trunk was split
But not to be thrown, left to rot.
My King, My Savior, My Christ
To cradle Him was my lot

The Leaf

by Neo Saicon, SJ


It clings to the twig, and swings
On a cold autumn week,
The last to leave.
When winter winds prick,
It waits…
And waits…
And waits and then —
Flicks!

Tossing and turning
Upon the cold winds calling,
Its journey of ending — beginning.
Gliding and sliding
And tumbling and rolling
Towards the frosty earth’s landing.
Relishing,
Its swinging and swaying,
As if everlasting.
Dancing and prancing,
And swerving and swirling
In a world awaiting,
Its coming.
Giving,
Into the sway of a rhythm.
Frolicking and playing
In the season that seems unending.

Finally.
It rests
The earth unmoving.
The grass uncaring.
The world forgetting.
It rests.

And the world returns to its humdrum beat.
And the world forgets the dance of the leaf.
And so the world forgets…
Just like it does with Christmas.

Innocent Carollers

by EJ Gerilla

Lights are on; tunes fill the airwaves,
Christmas has gained its welcome.
Lo, a glimpse of newness over bleakness,
Despite hard times and hunger’s pangs.
Blessed are the beggars
in the triumph of the Light;
Hope breaks the spell of darkness.

Yuletide remains a season for moppets.
Christmas belongs to the innocent.
No grumbling, no fuss, no worries.
Old familiar tunes linger in their ears.
Anticipating the adventure of caroling this year.

So there go the children like loose hunters, gathering bottle caps,
eying nails and slender wood.
Caps flattened, polished
and pinned to a rod with piercing nails
and bruised fingers.
A tambourine is born
to accompany the humming birds.

Our carolers are ready.

They begin with the neighbors,
Raising merry tunes, shaking their tambourine.
Christmas greetings to each household
Chanting of straining voices linger over the panes
Gathering bills, coins, fruits and goodies
As the night stretches into long darkness,
Sometimes unfortunate at hostile households
Chased by unfriendly scamps and dogs
But never disheartened.
Weary yet patient, persevering.
Daring to sing for more homes.

Red lights, chasing cars in traffic,
Singing Christmas tunes,
shaking their tambourine.
Good for a few pennies
if windows slide down
before the lights turn green.

Trudging a few more steps,
Before they end their songs.
They wander far and near
like troubadours and minstrels.
When the night is worn
and distances covered wide
…it’s time to go home.

A night of innocent caroling done.
They divide the fruits of their toil.

One waif, out of his share,
buys a pack of milk.
To a tiny Tondo shanty the boy hurries.
There a babe has waited all night,
Weeping and sighing.
But soon the child in the hammock feeds
Peaceful and so tender,
gazing at his kuya’s sweetest smile.