By midday, a poem was brewing. I felt it in my bones. It strummed the soul. No pun intended, but the surge of images and rhythms appeared just as coffee was literally brewing.
I chose to pair the poem with a black and white photo taken in Santander, Spain. My husband, himself a certain kind of poet with his camera, captured a moment of content in the Summer of 2018, as we planned to explore the footsteps of my ancestors who purportedly emigrated from Santander to the Philippines in the mid-1800s.
|Lazy Summer in Santander, Spain. ©James Sobredo|
LIKE MUSIC ON MY MIND
The day was humming in steady beat
of spontaneous random acts
filling idle minutes and indulgent hours,
falling foolishly in love
with possibilities in my mind.
The morning commenced without a care,
One wakes up just whenever,
unrestrained by projects, lists and alarm clocks.
The body wakes up when it wakes up.
The body desires as it wishes.
Unscripted, invites desire and
lazily luxuriates to the rhythm
of sounds and silences,
lovers breathless like staccato
and pauses cleverly spaced.
I’m almost certain, the already blushing bouquet
on the antique table by the bed
grew intensely flushed, its deep colors more vivid,
coherent thoughts in the mind
no less bewitched or bewildered.
These are moments fairytales or fantasies espouse,
deserving of a musical composition all its own,
in genres which capture the unique tempo
and daringly follow musical patterns
not too specific nor widely known.
Janis Ian’s At Seventeen--
“with average faces, lacking in the social graces,
desperately remained at home,
inventing lovers on the phone.”
Except these moments were authentically true,
without much need for inventing or casting lovers.
Both were already there, in the moment,
dare I say, strumming guitars with abandon.
This wondrous day was no illusion.
Its rhythm and pacing made room for writing letters
to officials in positions who make decisions
which potentially influence the fate
and future of our city’s children.
I did just that, morning’s passion spilling over
to things civically crucial
in recalibrating the public policy compass
for a landscape in uncertainty these days.
Ordinary citizens do what we can
to narrow the widening gap
between those with privilege and without,
a socio-economic reality often taken for granted.
How could a resolution for schools to resume
be considered practical,
or be considered at all amid this pandemic?
Not only is the act contrary to orders
issued by state and local authorities,
it dangerously exposes
lives of children and adults alike.
Acted as I must, hoping one voice
could make a small but necessary difference.
The day was humming unpredictably
of spontaneous random rests and pauses
filling idle minutes and indulgent hours
foolishly embracing love--
love of my life, love for the land,
love of children and anything and everything
that should matter most while still breathing.
The day turned into evening,
lovers effortlessly sharing in the task
of preparing dinner and
clearing afterwards--teacups in the sink,
strewn clothes on the floor,
and sneaky cobwebs in the mind
boldly told not to bother; instead
invited to come dance, not unlike Ian’s lyrics,
“would call to say, come dance with me.”
My muse seemingly in cahoots with the likes of
Elizabeth Browning, Sebastiāo Salgado
and Pablo Neruda.
The clarity of purpose was sublime,
crescendos perfectly timed, imperfect chords resolved,
a day concluded like music on my mind.
Poem ©Lu Sobredo
Photo ©James Sobredo
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED