Tuesday, January 30, 2018


Let me capture moments that vanish quickly, too fast for our memory to catch.

You see, you got to grab hold of them in their presence, for catching them by tail leaves you solely of their crumbs - their precious, tiny, tiny bits.

I point you to my website - Scribblory - Scribbling from Memory. If the word isn't familiar to you, it's because I invented it.

I write to remember.

The Swan

You are the swan that dances on my surface.

You make ripples on me with your feet, flapping gracefully.

You glide, you dive, and you swim.

You rest on me comfortably.

You move me, and I let you sway.

Oh I let you sway, sway, sway.

And I have no more stillness.

Friday, January 19, 2018

I Missed You

I removed my shoes, placed them on the rack.
I stirred the curtain and stepped in.

I felt it, Your majesty filled the place.
And it all seemed familiar.

I moved towards the center, and knelt with both knees like I used to.
I sat upon my legs, then bent low enough to kiss the green carpet.

I am here, Lord.

When I lifted my head and looked at You, my heart almost burst.

You and me.
Me and You.

Somehow, I just knew.

You brought me here.
You have longed to spend time with me.
Alone with me.

You missed me.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

How to Own a Space

I was given a room, an old one.

It was pretty furnished - a bed, a fan, a small closet,
Oh! And a nicely-varnished bookshelf.
Then there were...
few little things the former dwellers used.

I looked around and saw the walls peeling, 
discolored from past rains coming in. 
A cracked glass window let in dusty air.
Corners were covered with nets to keep off insects.

It was now my room, such an old one.

So I grabbed a broom, a mop, a trash bag,
then prepared a rag and a basin of water.
I scrubbed the floor, surfaces, edges,
and wiped things off to my satisfaction.

I pulled in my piano and set a chair,
and pushed in my study desk.
Then I hanged my clothes in the closet,
and placed my shoes and boots on the rack.

I then brought out bottles of paint and brushes,
and dabbed colors on walls and windows.
I formed lines, vines, and roses
then plastered sheets of paintings and sketched faces.

I turned around, looking at all that I made.
I adored the change, oh I loved the remake!
The room, sure was an old one,
But it was now a different space.

This room is now my place.

Thursday, December 28, 2017

Where Words Are

Have you ever had this kind of day when you just have nothing to say?
People call you writer, and today, you don't know how.
You're staring at a blank sheet, the cursor blinking.
Words are lost.
None is coming out.

So you put everything down, and set out to look for words.
You ask your father, pet your dog, and hug your sweetheart.
You take a bath, listen to music, and go for a long walk.
Words in the sky.
Words in the air.
Words in bells ringing.
There are words in Chai tea and Panini.
Of course, there are tons of words in a bookstore.
But nothing seems enough.

You step in the chapel, your shoes tapping.
You walk, listening to dull echoing.
Closer and closer, you come before Him.
Your eyes upon Him, the Source of all words.
You take a bow, your knee touches the ground.
You lift your head unto Him then sit down.

You see how Jesus is bare, wide open.
His arms outstretched, his body bleeding.
But He is there, dying in glory.
He gazes dearly, adoringly.
Oh, He is filled with love, honesty, majesty!
And in its depth, there are words brimming.

Friday, December 15, 2017

Wisdom Without Words

I notice that wisdom 
does not only take the form of words.

It can also be in silence
and in composure.

It can be in choosing this
and not choosing that.

Or in doing this
and not doing that.

Wisdom is in maintaining joy
even when there's no reason to.

Or in sustaining peace when things 
shake you, push you or disturb you.

Wisdom is hoping for the good
and letting the bad ones pass.

It is throwing what isn't good for your soul 
and keeping what nourishes.

Wisdom is in kindness when you're hated
and in giving when you're deprived.

It doesn't make friends for the sake of business 
or fame or other selfish intentions.

It keeps friends to turn them into family
and family to turn them into loved ones.

Wisdom is in being here and now,
and in becoming better the next morning.

Wisdom is living with feet on ground's dust and ashes,
yet with eyes toward the splendor of heaven.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Still You

There is...
a sense of security when I come to You, Lord.

I know that Presence - that caring, accepting, and peaceful Presence I drenched myself in when I felt alone in the convent. I would look at You, and You would look at me as if I'm the only person in the universe.

You created everything, but You looked at me as if I was much more loved. Much more beautiful.

I came to You in my dirtiest clothes, and you welcomed me.

I did come to You in my I-haven't-taken-a-bath-yet state, and you welcomed me.

I approached You without make-up nor with the hair of my legs shaved, and you welcomed me.

I ran to You in my worst - dry, angry, depressed - and you welcomed me.

I've already stepped out of the nunnery.
And still here You are, alive with that Presence.

Everything has changed. Everyone did.
But You, Lord, have not.

You are still who You are.

And You still love me.