These past weeks, however, I've witnessed several sunrises during my trips to some parts of the country - while driving a car, while walking in the middle of the field or while washing my face near a well.
How I wish I could share those beautiful sights with someone who wakes up early and walks with me to the middle of the field to recite a poem or just murmur a short prayer of thanks. I did it once, somewhere in Central Luzon, and regretted it years later. My friend took the magic of the morning from me.
Seeing the sun rise - when dawn breaks and darkness turns to light after passing through what seem to be millions of stages of colorful variations - I realized that the sunrise - the bukangliwayway - is still there for my taking. I only have to wake up early. No friend or fiend can steal it from me.
And yes, I was able to write again after seeing a very beautiful sunrise Monday morning. I wrote it on the spot on my new Moleskine notebook (feeling like Hemingway, ha!). I even wrote something for my friend:
Like a pool
of water
on an empty
parking lot
your stillness
makes the engine
of my old car
roar like thunder
And this one's for my friend:
will there still be
color on the horizon
when you wake up
and remember me