Do you come home
to kiss the hand of an elder?
or take a hand of a lover?
walk the beach
visit the streets
familiar to your feet?
Do you come home
to see a dying neighbor?
sit by a grave
of a brother you adored?
offer a flower
say a prayer
whisper how he’s missed
Do you come home
to hold a new baby
with a face of a beloved?
on a full moon
Take sips of Barako
mixed with some coco
outside an old stone church?
Do you come home
with tongue that’s so foreign?
and skin the sun’s forgotten?
Do you come home
with awe and wonder
in the faith of the poorest
….talent of the carvers
… hope of the farmers
and beauty of the children
I come home
to read the history of my bones
turn corners where the weaver spins
and the poet drinks
map the veins
of dead heroes
and in silence
…..say my thanks
I come home
to catch
the fishermen
moments before sunrise…
watch them cast
their nets like a sacred veil
and with the fish they sail…
as the light, like silver dust
spills into the morning sky….
Mother’s Day