Questions

BY GRETCHEN VELARDE

Why do we forgive our lovers?
What do we forgive them for?
For whom do we offer our forgiveness?
Do we offer it to them to pacify their hearts?
Or do we offer it to ourselves to calm
Our weary countenance and our restless souls?

Do we forgive them to once more feel
the warmth of their fingertips
to our cold, trembling lips?

Do we give them an understanding soft gaze
for the sake of polite reciprocity?

Do we return their kisses
for them to shower us more
with those, warm smooches?

Do we laugh at the onset of an expected humor
for us to keep them talking,
hoping against hope that they will
trip over a more serious conversation,
one that strikes a chord on us.
Conversations that we need
because they enliven our souls.

Do we allow our womb to be a receptacle
of their bodily fluids
because we believe it is the only way
to counter the drought that consumes us
whenever we shed an ocean of tears
for one graceless action,
for one tactless remark that escapes their lips?
A liter of tears for an ounce of pain…

Do we give our love because
we truly feel love for them?
If that is so,
Then why do we love them?

Is it only for fear of solitude
that we open our hearts for long-staying visitors?
Or is it the visitors themselves who
knocked and walked their way into
our vulnerable passageways
with their gifts and endless promises
of bliss and earthly delights?

For all the concerns of the heart,
the proverbial heart,
do we always question our ways?
Do we need to answer a riddle before
We proceed to the other side of the maze?
Do we always answer our questions
with another heap of questions?

Maybe this is why they say that it is reason
And only reason that separates us from lower animals.
The reason for every tear that we shed,
for every beating of our heart,
for every word that we utter,
for every kiss that we blow,
for every pain that we feel…

How difficult it is to live
inside the human’s territory.
To deal with those creatures
who walk with their two hind legs
and communicate by oddly moving
their tongue and lips.
And how much more difficult it is
to become a woman at the highest order of the animal kingdom
who questions herself these things each day
before she succumbs to the strength
of the ubiquitous sleep.

Journey of the Senses

BY GRETCHEN VELARDE

The scent of wine emanates from your mouth
And the slowly opening pores of your skin.
The faint taste of alcohol, forgotten fruits, and
Other secret ingredients
frolicking
Created the fermented intoxicating liquid which,
dampens
the interior of the mouth
and the entirety of the throat.
Destroys the walls
and barriers
that curtail the freedom
of the
mind
and washes
away
the inhibitions
of the
soul.

It emanates from you.

In my eyes,
You look like the local version of an Irishman,
Who stave off the poverty of their body and spirit
With a glassful of whiskey or
Cheap beer on their lips.

Your Eyes,
misted and dazed by the
growing intoxication,
revealed secrets of your darkest nights.

Your Cheeks,
glowing with tints of red roses
and rains of fireflies,
reflected the blushing innocence
of a youth held captive by love.

Your Voice,
laced with a hint of roughness,
became that of a matador’s
who summons a raging bull
to the bloodied battle ring.

And your Hands,
Oh, your hands!
with fingers smaller than the drops of rain.
They suddenly became travelers
of unchartered forests,
of untamed bushes,
of torrential rivers and seas,
of yielding caves,
of smooth plains and rolling valleys,
of throbbing islands,
of infinitesimal winding roads,
of orchards that grow exotic fruits,
of the land that overflows with milk and honey.

You suddenly became a traveler of the world,
A world more mysterious than fiction.
The senses are your compass,
Your radar, your north star, your guide.
Through these, you always lose your way.

Overpowered
by creations that are as old as time,
perpetual as the sun and the elements,
defiantly standing like stubborn rocks,
repeatedly whipped by wild waves,
and by every hour of every day
grow more beautiful than all the wonders of the seven seas.