promise me you’ll stay
i don’t ask you to promise me non-existent goodbyes,
for i know even souls have a due date.
neither do i ask of you to give me a warning
when your time is about to expire.
humans are vessels of complex emotions,
you, darling, showed me just as much,
i saw your features fade in the hospital,
and i saw your eyes glow when you named me.
humans, then, are ephemeral,
they come and go at the impetus of a God,
a God so egotistical and foreboding that when he called you home,
he never bothered to let me know.
you, a human in all its splendor and majesty,
i loved every atom of your body,
from your arterioles to your nerves
and all that stood in between.
and see, i knew you forever,
in that lingering space called the nothing,
where a soul was originated and perfected,
and later, that soul was born.
your daughter being me, i learnt from the best,
but i also took a knack at your tantrums,
your senseless battle-fighting,
your lovely picking-and-prodding.
and of course, memories are ever-lasting,
and i made sure they’re perpetual, writing them on the walls,
secret journals and bathroom stalls.
i keep your essence ever-flowing, away from vanishing.
do you remember, angel, when we went down to south texas,
how you broke down when you thought your brother had left,
and the nervous laughter when we got lost nowhere?
or, maybe you recall that evening in march
where we appointed our calendars for the lunar eclipse,
and we stood by the balcony, hand in hand,
but i couldn’t concentrate on the bodies of mass dispersed in the galaxy
when you were right there, next to me.
souls and bodies, from ashes to ashes,
you remain ingrained in my being,
from a mother to a star, from the earth to the sky and beyond,
if such thing exists,
when i meet you there i’ll dare to say ‘i’m home’.
so, i’ll never ask you to promise me you’ll stay
for i know not even i can attain to such promise.
instead, i’ll rest glad, knowing somewhere our fates are bigger than the stars,
and you, my darling, will greet me with open arms.
someday.