WALKING

By Karlo Weygan Kokoi Ravanera

Through the iridescent lamppost-lined humid streets
Of what I now call home
Breathing
Feeling
And looking Life straight in the eye
LIFE—
Both beautiful and festering
Help
I could not,
But have
This terrible
Terrible
Terrible yearning…

To awake
To cold
Crisp
Foggy mornings
With diamond-like dew drops
Sparkling lavishly on sayote leaves
Just outside my jalousied-window,
The fresh aromatic scent of pinewood sap
Tainting the cool breeze
With old woolen Navy Pea coat and faded blues—
Worn like second skin
For days on end…

Sidewalk beer and Ginebra binges right in front
Of La Azotea atop Session Road
Evening bonfires and barbecues right in your own
Backyard (or even, a friend’s)
Anytime you’d like,
Anytime you’d wish…

To rejuvenate spent mind and body on top of a mountain
With sleep—
So tranquil…
River flowing in your midst…

Why pack—
When you could stay?
Why go,
When Right Here is where
You could meditate and be away?
The (sick) desire for something Better?
Are you truly happy, or are you Bitter?

GUINEA PIG!
In a bizarre experiment in Living—
A revolting desire for the Good Life?
Want more?
What for?!?

Smoggy boulevards and busy avenues
Eyes—
Could not help but haze
From tears that’s yours—
And yours ALONE…

Alone
In this place I now call HOME
I walk,
Through the iridescent lamppost-lined humid
Uncaring streets—
FACELESS to the faceless people I pass
My window—
Still OPEN to their Closed Doors…

Alone,
In this place I now call My Home
I walk…

I WALK ALONE…

26 April 2002