plane to the philippines

I went there once before

when I was three

and again

when I was seven

and now at sixteen

I’m going again

to the country of my parents

I would like to say

I know what it’s like there

how the cities and houses are

how my family lives
 

from other than just pictures

that my parents have shown me

from other than just stories

that my parents have told me
 

about the beaches

with waves crashing on the shore

some with black sand

the rarest in the world, they say
 

about the sights and sounds in the cities

of colorful jeepneys lining the streets

filled with cars and people

all with somewhere to go
 

about the family

that lives across the globe

with dozens and dozens

of names I don’t know

and relatives I’ve never met

both Chinese and Filipino
 

about my mom’s old house

with its four stories

that I’ve only been to twice

and hardly remember
 

I hang a parol in my room window

that lights up during Christmas

flashing red and green and gold
 

I watch the movies, borrowed from the library

with their mixture of Tagalog and English

that I understand

from years and years  of hearing it
 

but when I board that plane

destination: Philippines

I’m flying to a familiar place

that isn’t familiar at all