Dumaguete

Note: I’m gradually dabbling in to poetry.  Truth is, I’ve always been partial to prose as I feel that I lack the skill and literary orientation to be able to produce read-worthy poetry.  This is just a stab in dark.  Novice steps.  I welcome your criticism, good or bad – I don’t consider this the final product, yet.

There is a place
I’ve been invited to go to
for many reasons
from various people
in different episodes of my life

They often say
You’ll like it there,
just a short visit
smell the air, write, read
start over, breathe

Found myself sold, then I said, “One day”
Yet one day never came

I’ve egged a friend
to chase her love
Told people, “You’ll like it there”
Loaned money to someone
who wanted to go so bad
And acted surprised when
he never came back -
him and my money

What’s so great about
Dumaguete?
I’ve met people who’ve been there
Read people who called it their home
Said goodbye to those on their way
I feel it is all real to me
The people, the stories
but the place

I promised myself, “One day”
One day I will go
and no one will know

And if you happen to pass me on the street
I imagine how your face would look:
Perhaps you can tell
That I’m not just visiting
That I’ve lived there
without letting you know

I’ll say to you,
“Isn’t it great here?”
Like I nursed those words
and held it up to you
like your lovechild.