how conflicting it is,
when we ask
for dead tongues, even if
it is that of a cow,
when we know
not how to speak
in its language, and less
in the language of this alien nation.
that day i choked myself
in my hallucinations,`
vowing to give you words
and offer them to you,
i wanted to show you love and not love,
adoration and not adoration
resentment, and not resentment,
grief and not grief;
i looked at magazines
thrown in the smog-kissed walls
and leafed. i foraged for
the catalog
looking for things
i convinced myself
you would look lovely in
and pay for them with dirt
between the fingernails
you would spend hours on,
even after more than two and forty
spent on formaldehyde and toluene,
so much that even speaking to me
in your decrepit voice takes away
half your life. perhaps
if i use this
pride will finally bloom
like a late peace lily
nurtured
in the heart
of inquietude.
untitled #6
To be swayed
By the wind is an honor
Indescribable, even
When one’s fate fits easily
Between fingertips and bandages
As though they prevail
To perceive rebirth as a form
Of disdainful yearning for something
To be called theirs.
Luna Ysabel E. Nuñez is a 15-year-old scholar studying Creative Writing at the Philippine High School for the Arts centered in Mount Makiling, Los Banos, Laguna. She specializes in free verse and dramatic poetry.
Luna draws inspiration from social issues, nature, emotion, and human behavior. You can find her on Instagram at @munimunihin.
