Mornings

I've always loved mornings. The problem is I am just too tired to wake up early to welcome the rising sun and wave goodbye to the morning star's fading light.

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