Grey and black days force me to make bright of them
even if what I see is dim and very grim. I accept
all things and paint a picture to realize something
that will make me shine instead of keep green my pains.
My past makes me stronger and wiser but now
that I’m in recovery, many of my friends turned out
to be my haters. I’m still thankful for the few brothers
that never turned their backs on me especially the strongest
woman of kindness that is my Mom. I add an old man who
can jive and always make me feel new when I’m feeling blue.
An instrument of God that is really true even without a clue
that every Sunday I would be in his queue. l know that Lincoln
is a surname so his name is my father’s. And there’s a man
who is my blood idol but because of yesterday’s gangdays
he’s turned numb and heartaches put his intelligent head
on top of his emotions he was never quite able to control.
One of his hobbies is climbing mountains, reaching their summit.
He always says sore legs are all worth the climb. I know that feeling
like a massive shot of dopamine inside his friend Eric’s brains
but he said he always looks down to feel much more satisfaction.
I know he can see me everytime he’s on top but as cliche
“Don’t look down on someone unless you’re helping him up”
really makes me sad he doesn’t have an inkling what his little brother
is now. Still hoping that one day we’ll be like the old times when
we were little playful kids playful and I really miss those times
and the affection of a brother especially the time our yaya Emma
caught us swimming without permission in the river called pangaw
which was muddy and filthy. Another cliche, “somebody leaves,
somebody comes,” another powerful prophet of God strikes again.
I cried inside my room, didn’t sleep all night when I remembered
the name of the priest, my Dad said, is the same as my brother’s.
In world history, there’s another one called the great Alex.
I haven’t had the feeling before in my life where, after every counseling
session with Fr. Alex, the euphoria is stronger than meth because I’m like
an angel incapable of committing sin. But “Still I Stand” is always my chant
which I got from Tip Harris, who is a very big motivation. But outside the room,
where there is an elephant, I changed a lot of little things even I can’t believe.
My struggles and battles on the street only my man Denice will stand up
and scream at every punk to “Go f***ing leave.” And for that I give my blood bro
respect and salute. Wait for my time, we’re gonna have a big bang of a celebration.
That time all of them left me, I assure them, like the iphone they use, they will reach
my hand and want to get my number. I’m like apple to them because I will again
be the sweetest fruit. To end this poem, the last word I want to say is, “I am meant to succeed” like my Mom and Dad always say.
