The Letter I Never Sent

The Letter I Never Sent
By: Dr. Albert Pagadora

I wrote to you once beneath the moon,

Its glow a ghostly kundiman croon,

The ink was blood from aching veins,

The page, a woven mat of pain.

The walls collapsed like tidal waves,

Your breath, a flicker no hand could save.

I held your palm, kissed your brow,

But time, like a wild tikbalang, refused to bow.

I prayed to God with trembling hands,

While silence rang like church bell bands.

Your name was all my soul could cry,

As tears carved rivers from my eye.

The stars above, like ancient eyes,

Watched me unravel lullabies.

Each note a thread from breaking bone,

Each verse a wound I faced alone.

I dreamed of death, a quiet shore,

Where duty knocks on hearts no more.

But love, your love, a sacred rope,

Tied me to the past with hope.

Your skin was cold as mountain mist,

Your voice a breeze the rice fields kissed.

Yet in your gaze, a storm stood still,

And taught me strength against my will.

I never sent that letter, Ma,
It sleeps beneath my memory’s box.
But every word I meant to write,
Still breathes within my silent walks.