Louie Jon A. Sanchez
Contributor Biography
Louie Jon A. Sánchez is an assistant professor of English at the School of Humanities, Ateneo de Manila University. He is the author of three collections of poetry in Filipino—At Sa Tahanan ng Alabok (Where the Dust Dwells, 2010). Kung Saan sa Katawan (Whence in the Body, 2013), and Siwang sa Pinto ng Tabernakulo (The Tabernacle Door Agape, 2020). He is also a translator from both English and Filipino. He has been a habitué of Singapore for the past few years, doting on the children of his youngest brother who lives there.
PADRE PIO
In rumination of the wounds of Christ,
A blinding light descended on you.
It momentarily quashed your consciousness.
You found yourself in darkness
And considered it the Holy of Holies.
Upon awaking, stigmata bled in your palms,
Your foot, your side.
You would carry the wounds for life,
Uttered the voice of the Bestower.
He also revealed the narrative
Of your Sacred Oblation:
Fasting, suffering, healing.
All these were unveiled to you
In your brief brush with death—
Which coheres to pieces of customary plots
In all manner of resurrection.
You were stunned,
No words came out
Of your parched lips.
Then it dawned on you that this is stillness
That transpires in faith that relies
On the cloud of unknowing.
Now, while you mindfully
Touch your wounds,
Fierce pain throbs,
As if emanating from the Source—
You have granted me disquiet,
Though I sought serenity.
TERESA DE AVILA
An image of supreme surrender—
As the Angel descends and greets you,
He thrusts the sacred arrow onto your chest—
Must be one of those that took
The life of the martyr tied to the tree,
Must also be a stray reed
From the time of the Old Crusades.
It strikes you immediately
Though its golden tip is yet to pierce
Skin, flesh, bosom.
The sculpture captures it—
Your face radiates
And in the circle of your lips,
The seemingly inscrutable expression
That brims with joy and runs over with praise—
Spirit that even in writing
Is an absconder, hard to seize and pin down.
In light's complete descent on you,
In its engulfing of your senses,
You revealed in your writing
That the arrow thrusts your being,
Your soul, again and again.
In each pull, agony trounces
And purges all things held within.
Untormented, you bear no other desire
But to be consumed by God's light,
To embrace him in whatever splendor.
Nada te turbe, nada te espante todo se pasa.
Pain is sweet and tender, that which you beseech,
No matter the ferocity it brings and yields.
ASSUMPTION
The Virgin has no body in her nakedness.
Under the embroidered velvet cape, uncovered
Is the fleshless frame of wood that shapes her,
Bearing towards the head an alluring ivory face.
No bones. No skin. Everything seems to have descended.
LAZARUS
—At the Baclayon Church, Bohol
His eyes announce disbelief in his resurrection
From the dark of the cave. An astounding image—
It is strange to enshrine rotting flesh that rose up,
A loosening shroud, a petrifying stance.
How did he get to such a majestic pantheon?
A cherub takes a peek, appears heaving a sigh,
And the Virgin raises an eyebrow amidst supplications,
Sparkling is her robe. Bewildered by absurdity.
It is as if the other noiseless statues looked at each
Other while attending to the faithful. Someone is astray.
HOLY MASS
This afternoon's Gospel
Is Christ's walking on water
And Peter's sinking,
And all of a sudden, something
Brews in my chest,
Wanting to hit and crash,
Hankering to slosh and overflow
In drowning each that stands on its way.
Waves turn into a tempestuous wall
With the ache to demolish everything,
When unexpectedly, it feels the guiltless
Touch of the imposing sole,
And carefully receives the strides
Of feet it recognizes.
It seems the one who crosses
My bosom is unknowing
Of the immense whirlpools
I intend to hurtle.
It is I
Who indeed knows nothing.
As the proclamation traverses to thanks be
To God, it's as if my hand was miraculously
Extended to my own submergence.
I emerged—not in redemption.
Facing me, the faithful take
Their seats all at the same time, like
Waves revering in a habit of holy shores.
Author's Note:
These poems were self-translated.
PADRE PIO
Sa pagmumuni mo sa mga sugat ni Kristo,
Bumaba ang nakabubulag na liwanag.
Sandaling pinaslang ang iyong malay.
Namalas mo ang sarili sa dilim
At itinuring iyon na Dakong Banal.
Pagkagising, nagdurugo ang iyong mga palad,
Mga talampakan, tagiliran.
Dadalhin mo ang mga sugat habambuhay,
Ayon sa tinig ng Tagapaggawad.
Ibinuod din Niya ang magiging talambuhay
Ng iyong Sagradong Alay:
Pag-aayuno, pagpapakasakit, pagpapagaling.
Nalantad sa iyo itong lahat
Sa saglit na pagkamatay—
Ang kaputol ng nakamulatang salaysay
Ng ano mang muling pagkabuhay.
Hindi ka na nakaimik.
Walang nakapuslit na mga salita
Mula sa nanunuyong mga labi.
Saka sumigid sa sentidong pagpapatahimik ito
Ng pananampalatayang nagpapaubaya
Sa kawalang-katiyakan.
Ngayon, habang hinahaplos mo
Nang buong ingat itong mga sugat,
Pumipitlag ang matindang kirot
Na tila pang-uusig sa Pinamuhatan—
Pinagkalooban mo ako bagabag,
Gayong kapayapaan ang aking asam.
TERESA DE AVILA
Imahen ng lubos na pagpapaubaya—
Sa pagbaba ng Anghel at pagbati sa iyo,
Akmang itatarok niya ang banal na palaso—
Maaaring isa sa mga tunod
Na pumaslang sa martir na nakagapos sa puno
At maaari rin namang isang ligaw na talim
Mula sa mga panahon ng Matandang Krusada.
Agad na may talab ito sa iyo
Bagaman pipilasin pa lamang ng gintong talas
Ang balat, laman, kaibuturan.
Huling-huli ito ng eskultura—
Payapang-payapa ang iyong mukha
At sa pabilog na hugis ng iyong mga labi,
Ang tila hindi masakop na mga pahayag
Ng siksik na ligaya at liglig na papuri—
Mga damdaming kahit sa panulat
Ay ilahas, mahirap masilat at magapi.
Sa lubos na pagbaba sa iyo ng liwanag,
Sa pagpaslang sa iyong malay,
Sinasabi mo sa iyong mga tala,
Muli at muling pinupunyal ng palaso
Ang iyong katawan, ang iyong kaluluwa.
Sa bawat paghugot, gumagapang ang sakit
At tila inilalabas ang lahat-lahat ng niloloob.
Walang pangamba, wala kang nasang iba
Kundi ang malagot ng liwanag ng Diyos,
Ang mayakap Siya sa anumang kalawakan.
Nada te turbe, nada te espante todo se pasa.
Sakdal-banayad ang kirot, siyang malaong asam,
Ano mang dulot at dalang karahasan.
ASUNCION
Walang katawan ang Birhen sa kaniyang pagkahubad.
Sa ilalim ng bordadong barong pelus, nailantad
Ang walang-lamáng balangkas ng kahoy na humuhubog,
Sapong-sapo sa uluhan ang garing na mukhang irog.
Walang buto. Walang balat. Pumanaog yatang lahat.
LAZARO
—Simbahan ng Baclayon, Bohol
Pagkagitla ang salaysay ng mata niya pagbangon
Mulang dilim ng hantungan. Imáheng nakamamangha—
Bibihirang ipedestal, lamáng bulok na umahon,
Káyong linong lumuluwag, tindig na may sindak-badha.
Paanong narating niya ang dambanang ubod-ringal?
Nakasilip ang kerubin, wari’y nagbuntong-hininga,
At ang poo’y taas-kilay sa sanlaksang dasal-linggal,
Makinang ang baro’t saya. Bigla yatang napanganga.
Mistulang nagkatinginan ang iba pang santong tikom,
Nakabaling sa balana. Sapagkat may naliligaw.
SANTA MISA
Ebanghelyo ngayong hápon
Ang paglakad ni Kristo sa tubig
At paglubog ni Pedro,
Ay parang may kung anong
Dumadaluyong sa dibib,
Ibig humampas, gumiba,
Násang manalasa’t rumagasa
Sa paglunod sa bawat nakatindig.
Nagsasamuog ang mga alon,
May pakanâng lupigin ang lahat,
Nang biglang madamá ang dalisay
Na dantay ng baták na talampakan,
Kusang sinasalo ang hakbang
Ng nakakikilalang rabaw.
Waring walang kaalam-alam
Ang naglalandas sa dibdib
Kung gaanong laksang uli-uli
Ang balak kong pag-alimpuyuhin.
Ako paláng maydibdib
Ang talagang walang kaalam-alam.
Sa pagtawid ng bigkas sa salamat
Sa Diyos, wari’y himalang naiabot
Sa sariling lunod ang aking kamay.
Ako’y napaahon—hindi sa pagliligtas.
Sa aking harapán, ang sabay-sabay
Na pagsisiupuan ng tao, animo’y
Along hahalik sa banal na pampang.
James M. Fajarito
Contributor Biography
James M. Fajarito grew up in Gloria town of Mindoro Island, Philippines. An associate professor, he serves under the Communication and Languages Department of Holy Angel University (Angeles City, Pampanga). He earned his PhD in Literature from the Philippine Normal University. A bilingual writer, he has had his poems, essays and stories featured in national publications in the Philippines and abroad. He resides in Angeles City with his wife and child.
San Sebastian Church, Manila
Hauling tons of steel across
oceans in the name of faith
sounds biblical and messianic.
After all, the country that shook
heaven and earth to collect
imported metals was an ex-Gentile.
An insurance against tremors,
the pieces of steel were piled
up carefully in intricate designs.
Soon the church rose up
from an Oriental backwater
to thrust up its spires to heaven.
A small church even
by ancient standards, it is dwarfed
today by mighty skyscrapers.
Cornered by modern buildings,
commerce, and pollution,
it is subdued but corroding.
Yet, its compact architecture
hides its tenacity: designed
in the Orient, prefabricated
in Europe, the heavy metals
had to navigate treacherous
waters to reach the archipelago.
All-steel, this building is a textbook
lesson on decisiveness and focus:
dodge hardships, real and imagined;
stay on course despite challenges,
stop only once you’ve reached the shore.
For even God is charmed by persistence.