Danza con la profesora, 2

It was my first dance in a long while.
I followed the dictates of the angels

and the old memories in my legs,
the movements from the birds

in my dead father's fields, down towards
my city's west where there, we pass by

graves, three for the road, and we,
farm people and poor poets were never

never afraid despite the ghost stories.
You right leg swayed following your hips

and you are our old sorceress, the stunts
of magic in your hands, the power of enchantment

in your silence as I followed you
while we danced, round and round,

and rounder and rounder we went to hit
it right with the music that came from the lips

from the gay words of writers that kept
us company. It was this revelation I remember

now even as you lie on your deathbed
perhaps watching what gift of memory

you left behind, this gift etched in the fabric
of our grief. No, no, you could have said

if only you knew we would. I am not going
away but fly to the height of metaphors

we all need to come across life lived in fullness.
You could have said those, Manang Perting,

and I know you would. Now, in this life,
give us the words the bless.

Hon, HI

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