Midlife is porthole to the past; vignette to the future.
– Chito L. Aguilar
I AM BUT MIGRANT (In Transit Thru Time)
upon the vast heavens I cast my eyes
astounded at such an expanse sublime
i see the moon and the stars in the skies
it is truly then that I realize i am but migrant in transit thru Time.
on my desk I work and on bed I play –
paper-sheets of white and bed-sheets of lime
all bear my mark and my score of the day
by my hands of toil and my feet of clay i am but migrant in transit thru Time.
between the distinct lines of poems I write
i waver on words of rhythm and rhyme
and when I falter between wrong and right
i seek a vision that I may see light i am but migrant in transit thru Time.
between womb and tomb is a voyage brief
the fleeing years, fleeting dears… now, my prime
youth’s egress, midlife’s ingress, what relief –
and yet, I fear illness and old age grief i am but migrant in transit thru Time.
upon the vast heavens I cast my eyes
then wonder and ponder when is the time
my Maker calls me and closes my eyes
when He pounds the gavel and casts the dice i am but migrant in transit thru Time.
Silence is when soundwaves oscillate no more; a flatline.”
-Chito L. Aguilar
(silence is not simply the absence of sound not solely determined by ear.
silence is the absence of thought the nonexistence of sensation.
silence is an interlude, an in-between: the pause between breaths the respite between words the gap between musical notes the lull between drips in a leak the break between ticks of a clock the interval between heartbeats the hiatus between feelings.)
I came because the song that I kept through the years is waiting to be sung. I cannot sing it without you. The song when sung alone will lose the essence of its tune, because you and I have been one.”
The glamour of childish days is upon me, My manhood is cast down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past”
– D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), British writer
images of years gone by – snap shots in series; a slideshow in this theater called Life.
My mother passed away last week. She joined the Creator at 81.
After suffering a stroke about 4 years ago, her condition deteriorated.
Our family is saddened by the loss, but she is now Home; she now rests in Eternal Peace!
In memoriam, I repost this:
For me, a line from mother is more efficacious than all the homilies preached in Lent.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 -1882)
MAMA (mother of six, widow, retired teacher, grandma, great-grandma)
exactly how right can I write about you? the script may just do no justice to you clear words as the pure morning dew for you equal with no woman, one and only you.
the elves in my childhood, you did banish my ghosts in adulthood, you admonish between me and my forfeits, you keep watch and between me and my feats, you’re in touch.
time I would not know ‘til it to me you brought earth would not be home ‘til it for me you sought reason would not be mine ‘til it to me you taught and, life would not be so ‘til it for me you bought.
– between girlhood and motherhood are hurdles withstood.
– between motherhood and grand-motherhood is growing brood.
(c) 2004 Chito L. Aguilar
Mama and Me in 1958
MAMA: mother of six, widow, retired teacher, grandma & great-grandma
exactly how right can I write about you? the script may just do no justice to you clear words as the pure morning dew for you equal with no woman, one and only you.
the elves in my childhood, you did banish my ghosts in adulthood, you admonish between me and my forfeits, you keep watch and between me and my feats, you’re in touch.
time I would not know ‘til it to me you brought earth would not be home ‘til it for me you sought reason would not be mine ‘til it to me you taught and, life would not be so ‘til it for me you bought. (c) 2004 Chito L. Aguilar
Photos taken by my uncle in 1958, when I was 7 months of age.
Shifting Shades 