Archive for July, 2015

An Unsettling Paranoia

Posted: July 14, 2015 in Prose
Tags: , , , , , ,

July 7, 2015

I really appreciate this notebook. As an effort to make the fellowship among SGC youth more intimate, a youth meeting every Sunday afternoon was formed. But Ate Hapi also wanted to have a talk just among the girls. And understanding that perhaps spoken words (not poetry, lol) may be a challenging avenue of expressing ones thought. Ate Hapi gave us this. Supposedly, this is for questions and thoughts one would like to discuss.

Mine is not a question, nor a logical/reasonable thought. It’s a paranoia, a fear on what’s yet to happen. One also that I haven’t been able to shake off, for years now. And that is, my fear of being hurt by the ones I love.

Mingling with non-Christians and becoming friends with people who do not hold on to the same faith as you do is not so grave of a conflict. Dwelling on the common ground, one can actually work with them; laugh with them, even. But whenever I get to think of these non-Christian friends, there is always, always that looming thought.

The thought that, one day, the civility would have to end. That the common ground would cease to exist. The thought that, today, it may seem that we are treading towards the same direction, but someday the road will be forked and the demarcation line shall be clear. That, right now, we may be content to leave each other in peace with out own personal convictions, but someday we would wake up and find out–we can’t do that anymore. The rift would be too great, the division too vast. There would be no more gray area. Everything, everyone, would be in black and white. Hard line. Explicit.

And then–I think–what? What would happen then? What would become of us, of the years of friendship and laughter, and sorrows shared together? Would it become a shield to protect me from agonizing pain, or would be the knife to wound me lethally from the inside?

You see, that’s what I fear. I fear that, because these people I dearly love do not adhere to the same belief I succumb myself to, and because one day the “wicked shall be wicked still and the righteous shall be righteous still,” they would actually be the cause of my future affliction. Persecution.

I could already picture myself in the years to come–being tipped to the authorities by a Catholic, hunted down, captured, and arrested by an agnostic, tortured and executed by an atheist. The image burns in my head, perpetually. To the point that, at times, it gravely affects my dealings with these people. That sometimes I’d wish I could just shut them out of my heart and keep my emotions at bay.

But then the question remains, and the fear, the paranoia, is still not dealt with. Would the friendship suffice, when fate has declared the war? Because more than the idea of being persecuted, I melt with fear and anxiety with the thought of having to suffer affliction and betrayal in the hands of people I used to share such golden memories with.


Should [Not] Have Let Go

Posted: July 13, 2015 in Poems
Tags: , ,

We were once so intimate,
so closely knit to each other,
walking in light together.

But I got scared as you fell,
and let go of your hand–
I cowered away.

Now darkness consumed you,
eating up your heart,
corrupting your very soul.

Had I been a little braver
and stood up a little firmer,
you wouldn’t have been beyond redemption.

Perhaps it’s too late, but still I’m sorry.
I should’ve been the better sister.
Forgive me. I should not have let go.

Drops Of Sorrow

Posted: July 8, 2015 in Poems
Tags: , ,

Dark clouds looming overhead,
I walked down the faded path.
Slowly. Gingerly.

Peals of thunder sounding,
Bolts of lightning striking,
I trudged on unawares.

Heaven’s tears started to fall.
One drop. And another.
Soon it was raining hard.

I let the rain drench my clothes,
let it soak my hair worn down,
let its noise drown my senses.

I breathed, I closed my eyes,
and lifted my face tow’rds the sky,
letting its water pelt down my skin.

May heaven’s tears hide my own,
may they ever drown all the pain,
may they wash my wounds clean.

Heaven’s rain, never stop–
tempestuous storm, don’t cease–
’til you’ve washed all my heartaches away.