Sigulanon

Martyrdom
Rodel Delera Anosa

Upset by dusky feeling,
Fragile questions intensify me.
Even laws of grammar
Can never exactly construct.
Is it love? Or, a mere admiration?
Raged by nightwards,
Sketches of fleeting moments
Embroidered in my dream.
I must confess.
I must retreat.
My mind is dull.
What language is love?
Even linguists
Can never define.
Some say, “Love is sacrifice!”
Solitude! Graved by chances.
Guitar played with me.
Pillows embraced me.
Careless shadows left me;
Sleepless at dawn of dusk;
Martyrdom! Of all the words
I’ve ever heard.


May 11, 2007
Dongon's Boardinghouse,
Sawang, Aroroy, Masbate