TO JING
I only see you cry when angry
But your tears today were of love
Your eyes welling with tears
and your chest heaving with grief
you wielded syringes, tubes and pumps
you read blood pressures and timed drips
you drew phlegm out and massaged limp limbs
like a virtuoso
How you must anger death by now
How many times have you snatched Papa from it
as we did nothing but cry, watch and pray?
But there is some joy in my tears
As I watched my sister, the nurse
the tearful virtuoso
frustrating death
–San Pablo, Isabela / 8 February 2007 / 4:28 a.m.
