For Papa


This is for you, Papa, for when you chose Mama to spend the rest of your life with, no matter how early or how sudden it was for both of you.

This is for you, Papa, for when you chose to leave the warmth and comfort of your home and work abroad, in order to provide for our family.

This is for you, Papa, for when you braved the loneliness in foreign lands yet you worked so hard you impressed so many people.

This is for you, Papa, for when you saw me for the first time—your first and unexpected grandchild—and you called me your angel.

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Canis lupus

A wolf the color of snow pads silently, leaving a trail in its wake. It is on the hunt. The ground is frozen white, with barely any hint of the vegetation underneath. A twig snaps in the distance and the white wolf lifts its head, its ears pricked. Even from a distance, it catches the scent of an outsider—someone who doesn’t belong to the pack. 

The white wolf shifts, its muscles tensing, ready.

It tastes the unmistakable metallic tang of blood in the air. 

A steady growl pierces the thick atmosphere and red eyes light up the gloom. From a thick cover of trees, a dark wolf emerges, its coat the color of coal. Out of place in these gray lands.

The dark wolf bares its fangs. Dark liquid trickles from its canines and stains the immaculate whiteness of snow.

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A Eulogy to a Black Hole

I refuse to be mediocre.

Yet, I guess I am. Who am I anyway? Who am I to the world? Who am I to the Milky Way? Who am I to the neighboring galaxies? Who am I to the universe?

Who am I to myself?

My belief in myself can be easily overthrown as former President Estrada has been easily impeached. I wonder why I have to battle myself with endless egotistical issues. I feel so vulnerable, so fragile to self-esteem problems that devour me up to crumbling bits.

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