Before the End Draws Near by Lu Sobredo Only four days ago on Sunday, June 20, 2021, my best friend and literary sidekick wrote this in a message: " Sis, one of the best ways to rest after completing a first novel is to write a poem--or two---or three---or so I've been told---besides restless spirits never listen to our entreaties for rest and calm. No matter how humble or earnest they may be . . . much love to you . . . " My friend and brother Ken Miller sometimes knows me better than I know myself. And here I am, on Thursday, June 24, 2021, having finished writing a poem that would not leave me alone, stunned about what else is left unsaid. It's only fitting that I dedicate this poem to him, and to the shared paths of our common journey. Before the End Draws Near “To be or not to be” was not a question I entertained upon waking. For years such question was comforting only when illuminated in a play by Shakespeare, from a soliloquy I could parrot since age ten ye

By Lu Sobredo Fourteen hours after receiving the news, I struggled to process and put things in perspective. Writing has become a means of coping in the pandemic and during other life-altering events. So, why not now? Forgive me for the surge of thoughts and emotions that others within my family or community might deem extreme. But damn it, someone has to say it out loud. I grew up among a very loving Filipino family and supportive community in California. Hearing words describing what’s unique about my ancestry, my ancestral province or region, and traits extolling our sensibilities and pride was as organic in our daily lives as breathing, eating, sleeping, and dancing. Dancing had to be included for my own sanity, a source of relief from the stressful news. Whether our Filipino family member had the ability or not to dance, we danced. Dancing was as natural as day. And to eliminate any physical awkwardness when expressing cultural pride and affection through dance, my beloved aunt Lu