Pintado

A poem conceived with lurking lies and birthed in pain, redeemed by grace.

****

(Written on the year 2013)

PINTADO
ni Ruth N. Ibarrientos
[audio]

Ako ang Iyong papel
Anong susunod nating kuwento?
Ilang kulay ng tinta na naman ang idadampi
dito?

Mahapdi ang bawat halik ng ginintuan Mong pinsel
Minsan ay hindi maiwasan ang pagdurugo nitong balat
sa pag-ukit Mo
ng bagong Pangalan
Sa pagsulat
ng maraming linya,
kulay at salitang
hindi ko maintindihan

Lubos Mong kinagigiliwan
ang pagtahak ng samu’t saring pangalan sa akin
Sadyang hirap akong unawain
Hindi ko malaman ang gagawin
Mahapdi ang Iyong bawat pagguhit at pagkulay at pagsulat
Ngunit matamis ang ngiti Mo habang ginagawa ito
Ako ang Iyong papel

Tumatagos ang tinta mula sa aking balat
hanggang sa dugo patungo sa puso
Tinatalunton Mo nga ba sa Iyong pinsel ang
kabuuan ng aking pagkatao?
Tinatalunton nga kaya ng samu’t saring kulay
ang kalaliman ng aking katauhan?
Kinukulayan Mo nga ba ang kalooban kong
hindi ko nakikita?
Kaya nga ba’t nadidismaya akong puro guhit
ng dugo ang nakikita
mula dito?

     Dahil

Sinadya Mong sulatan ako—kulayan ako—
Sa mga kadilimang hindi ko
nakikita,
Sa mga lugar na walang ibang nakakikita
at nakaaalam
Walang ibang makaaalam
Nang Ikaw lang ang tanungin ko?

Ilang beses kong tinangkang kumaripas papalayo
Ngunit sa tuwing gagawin ko,
inihehele Mo ako
Masakit pa rin ang hagod ng Iyong pinsel
Subalit may kakaiba sa bulong Mo;
Napapayapa ako
Hihintayin ko ang sining Mong hindi ko pa makita

Ako ang Iyong papel.


****
(picture not mine)
                In ancient Philippines, the more the marks, the braver. It is the warriors who bear the most battle scars and battle marks. Likewise, God is making us into brave warriors, victors in His name.

           God is working a masterpiece in you. He's not yet through. Trust His heart. You are His heartwork. Remember that, child. ❤

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