Your mind is also a traitor

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maureen yambot
>>frustrated journalist...(I believe that writing for people is a privilege not everyone will have. Wherever I am right now, I know I will always find a way to be heard.)

>>hopeless writer...(Writing frees my soul. When I am writing...I become free, powerful, I become all that I want to be.)

>>tragic romantic...(Love is something so beautiful that I will always adore but will never have the courage to find.)

sometimes I lose my self, to find my self.

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“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?”

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"Trust me, there are some love that don't go away. And maybe, that makes them crazy,but we should all be lucky to end with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever" -- Ally Mc Beal

POETRY

Kung Ibig Mo Akong Makilala
By: Ruth Elynia Mabanglo

Kung ibig mo akong makilala Lampasan mo ang guhit ng mahugis na balat, Ang titig kong dagat— Yumayapos nang mahigpit sa bawat saglit Ng kahapon ko’t bukas

Kung ibig mo akong makilala Sunduin mo ako sa himlayang dilim At sa madlang pagsukol ng inunang hilahil Ibangon ako at saka palayain.

Isang pag-ibig na lipos ang lingap Tahanang malaya sa pangamba at sumbat May suhay ng tuwa’t kaluwalhatia’y Walang takda— Ialay mong lahat ito sa akin Kung mahal mo ako’t ibig kilalanin

Kung ibig mo akong kilalanin, Sisirin mo ako hanggang buto, Liparin mo ako hanggang utak, Umilanlang ka hanggang kaluluwa, Hubad ako roon mula ulo hanggang paa.

In Silence

I sit in your silence scared,
waiting patiently for recognition.
For a word.
For a breath.
For a touch.
But I am raw.
Because I watch your hands instead of writing,
and listen for your breath instead of breathing.
It's strange how close to you I feel.
And the need I have to help you,to make you smile.
And yet, I'm still here waiting, for you to let me in

(from the diaries of Elizabeth Wakefield)

Sewer Walking
You and me,
we used to talk
like a river
underground.

The sewer where
we used to walk,
the hole at the end
empties to out
to the pier
where paper boats
disappear.

Me, I try
to send this note,
float it
like a paper boat,
but paper sinks
and words are weak.
I try,
but I don't speak.

(poem from the tv series Joan of Arcadia)