Literary: Voice012





Hindi ko inaasahang aabot sa ganito. Ano ba ang kasalanang nagawa ko sa Diyos? Bakit ganito ang kapalarang ibinigay niya sa akin? Sa atin?

Hindi ako mapakali. Nangangatog ang aking mga tuhod at ang sikmura ko ay tila ba umiikot sa sobrang kaba. Nanginginig ang aking mga kamay habang sinusubukan kong kumalma.

Alas dos na ng umaga nang ako’y tawagan ng kanyang ina. Hindi na raw nagre-respond ang katawan niya sa mga ibinibigay na gamot at patuloy na raw ang pagbaba ng kanyang vitals. Wala pa akong pahinga noon pero wala akong hinintay na segundo at tumakbo agad ako papunta rito.

Hindi ko alam ang mararamdaman ko. Parang noong nakaraan lang ay nangangako pa siyang magiging maayos din ang lahat. Hinawakan pa nga niya ang mga kamay ko kahit nanghihina na siya para lang masabi na kakayanin niya. Binanggit niya pa ang kanyang mga plano para sa aming hinaharap—ang makadalo sa lahat ng concerts ng mga paborito naming banda. Hindi niya pa nga natapos sabihin ang lahat dahil sa dami at kailangan niya nang uminom ng gamot, pero tandang-tanda ko ang lahat ng iyon.

Alam kong wala ka pang pangakong hindi natutupad pero bakit ganito? Bakit hindi ako mapanatag? Bakit ang sakit ng katotohanang binubulong ng kutob ko sa akin?

Nasa loob na ng kwarto niya ang mga doktor at kami lang ng kanyang ina ang nandito sa labas. Alam kong nababalot din ng takot ang kanyang ina ngunit hindi ko rin alam ang sasabihin ko sa kanya. Hindi ko alam kung anong mga salita o kung may mga salita bang makakapagpagaan ng kanyang kalooban.

Habang ako’y dumudulog sa lahat ng Diyos na kaya kong tawagin ay bigla akong tinapik ng kanyang ina. Agad akong lumingon at napuno ng pagtataka kung bakit niya inaabot sa akin ang kanyang cell phone.

“Ang huli niyang sinabi sa akin kanina ay iparinig ‘to sa’yo kung sakaling may mangyari sa kanya. Nagalit pa ako at sinabi kong huwag siyang magsasalita ng gano’n pero siguro oras na para pakinggan mo ‘to,” sabi niya habang nangingilid ang luha sa kanyang mga mata.

Kinuha ko ang kanyang cell phone at tinignan ang nakalagay dito.





Isang voicemail na wala akong kahit na anong ideya kung ano ang laman. Ayoko mang isiping huling habilin niya ito ngunit dali-dali ko itong binuksan.

[VOICE012] • 0:01-0:06
“Siguro takot na takot ka ngayon, ano? Hindi ako mamamatay, huwag kang mag-alala…”

Tumulo agad ang aking luha nang marinig ang kanyang tinig. Tutuparin niya pa rin naman siguro ang pangakong kanyang binitawan pagkatapos ng lahat ng ito.

[VOICE012] • 0:10-0:21
“...Anyway, ginawa ko lang ‘tong voicemail para matuloy yung hindi ko natapos sabihin sa’yo nung nakaraan. Wrong timing kasi si Doc no’n eh, ano? Saktong-sakto na sasabihin ko na yung pinakagusto mong banda tapos biglang pumasok...”

Tuloy-tuloy lang ang daloy ng aking luha sa hindi ko alam na dahilan. Ang alam ko lang ay mas nakahinga ako nang maluwag habang pinapakinggan siya na parang normal lang ang lahat.

Ang natitirang mga banda na kanyang binanggit ay ang mga matagal ko nang pinapangarap na makitang magtanghal sa personal. Siguro, naisip niya na baka sumama ang loob ko noong ‘di niya natuloy sabihin ang mga ito na pinangako niyang pupuntahan namin ang mga concerts nang magkasama noon pa. Hindi talaga siya makakapayag na pumalya ang mga pangako niya.

[VOICE012] • 4:32-4:43
“...Ayun lang naman. Iniisip ko kasi baka magtampo ka na hindi ko nasabi yung dream concert destinations mo. Pupuntahan din natin lahat ‘yon, syempre! Okay na ‘yon. Hindi ko na pahahabain ‘tong voicemail, magkikita pa naman tayo.”

Sandaling tumahimik ang cell phone kaya napatingin ako kung tapos na ba ang voicemail. Mayroon pang iilang segundo at naisip kong baka katahimikan na lang ang natitirang laman nito. Umayos ako ng upo at pinunasan ang mga luha ko. Hindi na ako nanginginig kagaya kanina at mas gumaan ang pakiramdam ko sa kabuuan. Magkikita pa kami, ‘yon ang huli niyang sinabi at ‘yon ang panghahawakan ko mula ngayon.

[VOICE012] • 4:55-5:17
“...pero sa totoo lang, hindi ko sigurado kung dito pa. Magkikita pa tayo pero hindi ko na alam kung saan. But either way, see you soon! Dito man o sa susunod na buhay, hahanapin kita kahit saan. Akala mo matatakasan mo ako? Magkikita pa tayo ulit kahit anong mangyari! See you, my dream concert buddy.”

Para akong pinagbagsakan ng langit at lupa sa huli niyang mga salita. Unang beses kong makarinig sa kanya ng pag-aalinlangan kung aayos pa ba ang lagay niya dahil lagi niyang sinasabing kakayanin niya. Ngayon, nang tinignan ko ang cell phone ay wala na itong karugtong. Yuyuko na sana ako upang ituloy ang aking paghagulgol nang biglang lumabas na ang mga doktor mula sa kanyang kwarto. Hindi ko masabi mula sa kanilang mga mukha kung maganda ba o hindi ang kinalabasan ng mga nangyari sa loob ngunit isa lang ang sigurado ako.

Ano man ang naging resulta, magkikita pa tayo. Hihintayin ko pa ring tuparin mo ang mga pangako mo kahit na sa susunod pang buhay. Lilibutin pa natin ang mundo upang mapanood ang mga gusto mong banda sa hinaharap. Kahit gaano katagal, basta, magkikita pa tayo.

Literary: Heartstrings.





My heart is tied to yours
and all the strings are taut.
Because today,
with every step I take,
I am closer to you than I thought.

I have waited for you forever.
My love, are you aware?
Could you pull once if you know
and twice just so
I am sure that you are there.

And when you have trouble sleeping tonight,
just pull the string three times.
So I can play you melodies,
and symphonies,
and a heartstring lullaby.

But before you dream: I love you.
Even if I don't know you yet.
And when I walk through your door
I know I will love you more
than I did before we met.

And I want to forget the world with you;
It's had a hold of us for too long.
So, world be damned
I will hold your hand
as we dance to our song.

Get some rest tonight, my love,
and rest assured I'll see you soon.
Because I've asked the moon where you are
and he's asked the stars—
And now, I'm coming home to you.

Literary: Blue.





I do not know what colors are.

I've had them described to me multiple times; I've been told that there are thousands of them and that they vary from the brightest hues to the softest shades and that they surround us everywhere we go—that every thing has a certain color. I've asked what my color is, and I've been told that my skin is brown, and that my hair is black; that my cheeks are pink and that my eyes are a “unique” color: grey.

I am not dense; I know what unique means and I know that its meaning changes when it is used to describe me. Unique means different, one of a kind, special—but once it is used in a sentence pertaining to me, it means abnormal, queer, peculiar—and “unique” becomes more of a buffer than it is an adjective. For example: when someone calls my eyes “unique”, it only means that they are unable to do the one thing they are supposed to do: see.

That being said, I do not know what colors are, but I’ll tell you one thing about me: I always make it a point to ask my parents what color I'm wearing every time I put on a new set of clothes. I don't know when I started doing it, all I know is that I always have, even though I am fully aware that there is no point in doing so. That is why on June 8, 2015, I knew I was wearing a white shirt, black shorts, and white shoes when I met Blue.

I was in seventh grade when the teacher introduced our class to the newest student. I joined every one as we greeted her in unison: "Nice to see you, Blue."—which was ultimately followed by giggles and snickers, and even though I was not able to see anything, it did not take a genius to figure out they were doing so in my direction. I heard our teacher apologize to me, flustered, when she realized what she had asked the class to say as she guided Blue to a vacant seat, which—from what I could tell—was right next to mine.

We were told to be kind to Blue, and I remember thinking that there was a very unnecessary amount of emphasis on the word “kind” as our teacher said this; as if it wasn’t common sense to be kind to a stranger. What reason would anyone have to not be kind to her? I thought.

The day went on as it usually did, not a single word was spoken between Blue and I as I sat in my seat quietly reading a copy of a book my parents gave me which was printed in Braille. Now, before you say anything: yes, I read. I very much love reading. It is very important to me and it makes me feel like I belong with the rest of you, even in the smallest way possible. It has been my way of reassuring myself that I am not that unique after all. And so, I read every chance I get.

The class went on around me, but I hardly even knew what subject was being taught because I could not focus on anything—not even my book. I don't know if this is something a seeing person is able to do, but I have always had a certain talent: I know when people are staring at me—and when they do, it is very distracting. Maybe being able to feel people's eyes on me is God's way of making up for the fact my eyes can not feel anything at all, but my point is: I can always tell. And so, I looked straight at Blue (or maybe a few inches to her right—I do not know, unfortunately, there is literally no way I can tell), and asked her: "What are you looking at?"

"Why are you touching your book that way?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I am reading."

"With your hands?"

"Yes." I paused, has this girl not seen Braille before? "With my hands."

"Why not use your eyes?" I felt my face deadpan as I blinked at her twice in disbelief. I shook my head, took a deep, audible breath in—remembering what our teacher said about being kind to Blue—before I replied:

"They are out-of-order."

I smiled at her in a way which meant this conversation is over, and went back to reading my book. For a solid minute, I thought my silent message got through, and I went back to peacefully reading my book until she started speaking to me again.

"I have read that book before."

I froze. The book in my hands was one titled All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr—she must have been able to read the translation on the Braille cover—and as much as I hated to admit it at the time, I was surprised. It was one of my favorite books, and never in my life had I encountered someone who has read it as well. I was especially surprised since I assumed she was my age—and girls of my age liked to read about romance and fiction, not about World War II. And so I feigned nonchalance as I told her: "So have I." Which was followed by five seconds of silence before she replied:

"I understand why you read it. The girl in the story also reads with her hands because she cannot see. Because she is blind. Just like you—"

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" I was startled as I felt hands on my shoulders. I recognized the voice as my teacher's and I simply nodded as I took her hand, still taken aback by the blunt remark by the new student who I had barely known for five minutes just made, and in that moment, I felt whatever the feeling in between confused and hurt was called. I was hurt, because I did not really like to hear the “b-word”; I am well-aware that I am blind. I do not have to be told twice—but at the same time, I was confused. Because I did not understand the way she said it and the reason as to why she said it that way in the first place.

Our teacher pulled me outside of our classroom, apologizing again, because she failed to properly introduce me to Blue. She told me she overheard our conversation and explained to me that Blue was different, just like me. She says that Blue lacks a filter; that she says anything that comes to mind without a second thought. She says that Blue does not know what a "joke" is and that I should avoid making them around her because she knows I have a very dry sense of humor that Blue would not be able to understand. "Her mind is... special." She said; I did not like the way she said it. It sounded very much like Blue's special was my unique.

And so I was guided back into the classroom with a new understanding of the character seated next to me. I did not make any attempt to talk to her, fearing what she might say next, and I silently continued to read. But it did not take very long until I heard the sound of a chair squeaking against the floor—and the next thing I knew, Blue's shoulder was pressed against mine.

I froze for the second time that day. I did not know how to react. As far as I could tell, she wasn’t looking at me, but we sat like that for a solid minute before she spoke.

"I am sorry."

"What?"

"I am apologizing. For earlier. I do not know what for, but I am. I am sorry because you looked hurt. I do not want to hurt you. I am sorry you are blind."

I had to suppress a laugh after the last, unnecessary statement—which I found odd because I expected to feel offended after hearing the “b-word” for the second time that day—but I awkwardly accepted her apology. After that, I expected her to move away from me, or to avoid me for the rest of the school year in the fear she would unintentionally offend me again—but she never did. And for that entire day we talked about All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.

She told me her favorite character was Frederick, and I told her that mine was (very predictably) Marie-Laure. She told me she absolutely despised Werner for failing to protect his best friend that he knew for two years, but was prepared to die to save a girl that he met two days ago—she very darkly followed this up by stating that "Werner deserved to step on that land mine".

I listened to her talk, agreeing and disagreeing with her opinions and very hesitantly sharing mine (because I was afraid of her disapproval—I learned very quickly that she is terrifyingly passionate) and before I even realized it, the final school bell rang. Never in my life has a day gone by so fast.

To my surprise, Blue asked our teacher if she could be the one to guide me to the school gates at the end of class that day. She agreed with this, but she told Blue that she would have to hold my hand or else I would trip and fall—and Blue strongly refused to hold my hand. I will be honest: I was offended by this at first, but then I remembered what our teacher said earlier that day about Blue being different, just like me, and I realized I probably still had much to learn about her, so I kept quiet.

Blue suggested that I hold onto her belt loops instead, and our teacher put some thought into this. Then a few moments later, she asked me if I was comfortable with Blue's offer, and I agreed—but I would be lying if I said I did so without any hesitance (I recall there was a very generous amount of hesitance, actually).

And so, that was the first day of many days that I held onto Blue's belt loop with my left index finger and my walking stick in my right hand as she guided me to the school gates, and once we got there, our discourse about All The Light We Cannot See continued until our parents arrived. And once hers did, she said something that I will never forget:

"I will see you again, soon!"

"I'll see you soon!" I smiled, as I unknowingly replied without thinking about it twice, and if it weren't for a trail of giggles walking across me, I don’t think I would have realized there was anything wrong with that statement. To this day, I wonder if Blue ever realized the same thing, because to this day she still says the same six words to me before she leaves, not that it really matters, because I have still been saying the same four words in reply.

For the following years, this was how my days went. I bring a book, and more often than not, she has already read it, then we exchange our opinions. It didn't take me very long to realize that Blue was in fact special, but hers was a very different kind. I realized I was wrong; a thousand of my uniques combined would not even come close to what her special meant. Unique, when used to describe my eyesight, pertains to the lack thereof—but special, when used to describe her mind, means beautiful. Because Blue's special means her mind is a library with shelves upon shelves of books of different genres. Blue's special means she knows every capital of every country, and every prime number from 2 up to 7,057. Blue’s special means she feels the constant need to reassure me that “being blind is okay” ever since she thought she offended me on the day I met her by quoting The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and telling me: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Blue's special means she sits too close, and she says too much, and she laughs too little because she doesn't get what a joke is. Blue is a book, and she is the only one I have not been able to fully understand—but something tells me I have all the time in the world to figure her out. Because our paths have crossed now, our lives are entangled with each other, and in a way, a part of me knows I was meant to find her, and that we would be stuck with each other for a very long time.

Now, it is June 8th 2019. We are in 10th grade and Blue still waits for me at the school gates before the bell rings to guide me to class with my finger around her belt loop, and she is still the one to take me back to the same gates once the day ends. We've talked about almost every book in existence, discussed a third of them twice, and right now, I am listening to her as she tells me how the most terrible possible dystopian future is the one found in Fahrenheit-451 by Ray Bradbury for she cannot imagine a world where reading is illegal. And as Blue rattles on for what I know could very possibly be forever if we were not required to go home after class or if the world were never to end, I realize I know what my favorite color is.

I nod along to every thing she is saying (she doesn't mind if I don't listen, I have discovered long ago that she simply adores talking) and soon enough she tells me her parents have arrived to pick her up. She pats my head—because Blue does not like hugging, but she says that this gesture means that I have been "very nice" to her—then she tells me what book to bring tomorrow, and I smile, leaning my head against the familiar palm of her hand. She lets go of my hair and leaves as I wave in her direction (I can only hope that I am waving at the right person). I wait for her to say goodbye, then she says it; and it is the same goodbye I have longed to hear at the end of every day for the past four years.

"I will see you again, soon!"

I do not know what colors are, but now I'm sure I know one.

Blue. Blue is the color of the sky, of the cover on All The Light We Cannot See, and of the shirt and shoes I am currently wearing. Blue is warm, and bright, and sits too close, and says too much, and laughs too little. Blue is special in the most unique way possible. And now, I feel inexplicably thrilled knowing that when the next person asks me what my favorite color is for a laugh, all I will have to say is her name.

Without a second thought and with a single smile, knowing that this goodbye is far from the last, I replied, "I'll see you soon."

Literary: 831





“Why are you holding me like this?”

That’s probably one of the easiest questions you’ve asked me by far, and you ask a lot. The answer, or maybe answers, are practically engraved onto my heart and mind. Yet it’s so hard to answer, because telling you one reason isn’t enough, but if I tell you everything it’s too much. Perhaps it’s because you’re adorable? Because I don’t want you to leave and to be apart from you? Because I can’t get enough of you? Maybe because I know it’s not always I get to do this? There’s also the fact that I just love holding you. It’s also because I want to keep you safe, away from the hurt the world will undoubtedly give you. There’s also the fact that I feel so whole with you so close, the feelings I feel so hard to put into words. So for now, questions will be my answer: “Hmm? Why not? Don’t you like it when I do?”

“I do... But why are you holding me like this? Why now?”

By now I shouldn’t be surprised that you asked, these questions are practically a regular thing, yet they never fail to catch me off guard, to make me want to lie just to avoid that look in your eyes that tells me you’re unsure of what we’re trying to build together now. Despite this, I take a deep breath and prepare myself to be brought back to that fateful day as I say, “Because I wasn’t in love with you then.”

**** eight hundred thirty-one days ago ****

Today is my day. There’s no particular event to celebrate, and truthfully nothing big is set to happen, but I just know that today is my day. I woke up early feeling well rested, I had a full breakfast without rushing to eat, and I drove to school without getting stuck in traffic. That has got to be the definition of a perfect morning. So as I enter the classroom with a spring in my step, I look for you just like I always do. “Hey, bud,” comes my usual greeting and when I see the big smile on your face as you greet me back, I just know today is my day.

The morning went by as well as it possibly could. Our teachers all seemed to be in a good mood, our activities all seemed so easy, and we even got assigned as project partners. Now it’s lunch and I can’t seem to find you, so I head out of the classroom to try looking for you. As I turn the corner to head to the stairs, I feel familiar arms wrap around me.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” I said as I turned to look at your face.

You have a big smile on your face as you tell me “Yeah, I went to the canteen to buy your favorite. You know how fast those run out.”

You handed me the snack, never letting go of me completely. “Thanks, dork” I said with a ruffle to your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go eat our lunch,” you said, dragging me back to our classroom.

Lunch passed as usual, sharing the jokes we heard from our seatmates this morning and you practically feeding me all your food. It was good, with you it always seemed good.

Now as I walk with you to our usual bench after classes, I think about what to talk to you about. Maybe the lunch your mom made? How about the person you told me you found attractive that one time? Oh, I got it.

“Hey, bud… It’s Valentine’s next week. You got any plans?”

You look at me with an odd look on your face, I can’t quite tell just what it means though. “You mean, apart from the ones with my family?” and I replied with a hum of confirmation. “Not really, I mean, do I look like I’m dating someone?” you continued, and we shared a laugh at that, knowing we were both painfully single.

“Hey, I have a question.” You look at me expectantly, and despite the weird feeling in my gut, I continued.

“Have you ever thought about love? Not puppy love, we’re all past that already. The love that makes you think ‘hey, maybe this person is my person to take care of’. The kind that makes you miss the person despite just separating? I just thought that since we’re graduating, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try and get serious with someone, ya know?”

My questions were met with silence. Not the comfortable kind that we always have, the very heavy loaded kind, and I don’t understand why. We’ve always talked about the most random things, this shouldn’t be any different.

“You really are so stupidly dense.” You turn to look at me with the nastiest look I have ever seen come from you. “Love? You wanna talk about love? Sure, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how painfully obvious it is that you have my heart and every single day you make it as painfully obvious that I don’t have yours,” you say as you push your finger into my shoulder. “Let’s talk about how I go out of my way every single day for you. How I stay up on nights you can’t sleep despite the fact that I’m tired, just because you want to talk. How I study in advance even though I don’t want to, just because you want someone to double check what you know for our recitations. How I sit through every single conversation about that new person you find attractive or that attractive stranger at the mall, even though it hurts so, so much knowing you don’t see me like that. You still wanna talk about love? Huh?“

As I try to find the words to say, you take my silence as an answer. “Nice talking,” you say as you wipe the tears that have fallen from your sad eyes and turn away. At this moment, I feel as if time stops. I’ve never really thought about you that way, you’re my best friend after all. But I think back to all the times we’ve changed our plans just to accommodate one another. How I always feel the need to check on you. How after all these years I still love learning new things about you. How maybe all along, we were bound to fall in love with each other. Oh crap, I’m not sure anymore, about how I feel, about what to do, about anything! But I do know that if I don’t follow you now, I could lose you, and I don’t know if I’m willing to take that chance. So as everything starts back up, and I consider everything I’ve thought about in these past thirty seconds, I take a deep breath and chase after you.

*****

And as the memories of that day all float away, I finally find the courage to say, “Because I didn’t love you then.” Just as that look starts appearing on your face, I continue. “But I love you now, more than my words can explain, possibly even more than I could ever love someone,” I say with as much of my heart as I can, gently stroking away the tears falling from your eyes.

“I knew I was going to tell you today, but this isn’t how I planned it would go,” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I know I’ve hurt you before, and I will never stop feeling sorry for how insensitive I was, but I need you to know that I may not have been in love with you then, but I know that I was already falling. Do you remember the day you told me you love me? How it took me a while to chase after you?” I asked, and you nodded your head. “It was that moment that I realized how much I’m willing to do for you. I realized how frequently I talked to you, how I always wanted to hear your voice, how I love to learn the little things about you, how I wanted to hear you talk about your day, how much money I’m willing to spend on your favorite ice cream because I love seeing you scrunch your nose when you take a bite, and how I just want to be with you. I realized that I couldn’t see a day in my life, a day in my future, without you. I chased after you because I knew that if I let you walk away, you weren’t going to be my person anymore, and I just couldn’t let go of the best thing that the Heavens has ever given me.”

“So yes, I didn’t love you then. But I’ve known I was falling in love with you for eight hundred thirty-one days now, and I continue to fall in love with you every single day. In the time I’ve spent learning about you, I haven’t found anything I don’t love. So please, believe me when I say I am so in love with you. I see my future with you, I see a cute little wedding, a house, maybe a few little mes and yous? A dog or two? I don’t really know, but I can’t imagine a version of my future without you in it.”

Silence envelopes us after I finish what I have to say. Your eyes clear up, and finally for the first time in the past ten minutes, you look into my eyes. “Eight hundred thirty-one means ‘I love you’,” you say and I am once again left dumbfounded by the words that come out of your mouth.

“That’s really all you got from everything I said?” I asked, trying to stifle my laughter. At this, a burst of laughter escapes your lips, your eyes twinkling with happiness as you nod your head sheepishly at my question.

I know it’s hard to take away the pain, but the look in your eyes now tells me that you’re starting to believe in the words I say. With this, I know we’ll be okay and that tomorrow is the start of forever.

Literary: Tagpo




Sa pagtulog mo’t pagkumot ko sa’yo,
bitbit ko’y hindi lamang puting tela;
kundi ang mala-bahaghari na disenyo
ng matingkad na pag-ibig at alaala

Binabati ako ng halik ng nakaraan
sa bawat pagbisita ko sa iyong silid
Tulay patungo sa nagdaan,
gabi-gabi kong itinatawid

Aking mundo’y pinahiran mo ng kulay,
buong sansinukob ko’y iyong napaharana
Kalawakan na kariktan ang taglay,
napintahan ng pula, esmeralda at lila

Hindi iisa ang buhay, ayon sa mga alamat;
dahil lubos na kulang ang sandaang taon
Habambuhay na kasama ka’y malayo sa sapat
kahit isa, apat o tatlong milyon

Pahihintuin ko ang sayaw ng mga alon,
makasama ka lang nang mas matagal
Lalakarin ko Makiling hanggang Mayon,
para lang oras ay dahan-dahang bumagal

Hindi pa rin sapat ang mga hawak-kamay
at daan-daang yakap, aking hiraya;
na kahit sa kabilang buhay
ay siguradong hahanap-hanapin pa rin kita

Marami akong hindi maitutupad,
kaya pakinggan mo ‘tong aking huling pangako;
kung may susunod na buhay at ako’y mapalad
tiyak na masisilayan mo pa rin ako

Bawat paghinga ko’y aking inaalay
kay Dian Masalanta, Lakapati at Bathala
Dagdag na oras baka sakaling sa’kin maibigay
para mailakbay pa kita sa mga tala

Kahit kailangan ko na raw magpaalam,
lalabas ako ng ospital nang nakangiti;
dahil sa nakagiginhawang pag-asa:
magtatagpo pa rin tayo muli
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