Prose & Poetry

welcome home, starling

you are safe now

Fragments

Fragments

There are smiles,
remnants of belly-churning laughter,
fragments of a Bamboo tune and lingering promises
for another Saturday together, of the same energy,
same times and same weightlessness,
 
but there is also pain in that one centred belly,
room-sized, elephant weight,
that boils and claws away from comfort,
away from the concrete and into the more fluid,
the dark unknown calls me to get fit and get to work.
 
The satisfaction of Saturdays
off sick, all over the place, has grown too small
for me now, gathering a kind of hunger
only solitude and silence can kill; a kind
that makes FaceTime the best of options to see
 
you, growing loves and lives with two extra hands,
you, finding missing pieces of yourself out into the uncharted,
you, cleansing yourself of the yesteryears, you, growing with every step,
and me, toiling dreams from thought to paper to podium,
 
until slowly we become, by choice, stars,
crossed lovers, divided by duties and dreams
yet to be conquered. I get to the station entrance,
the portals vomiting people from all directions.
Does the sign across means to Depart or to
Arrive?

 

Troy Cabida (b. 1995) is a London-based Filipino writer, editor and budding spoken-word artist. A Barbican Young Poet 2016-2017, his recent poems have appeared on Bukambibig, Cha and Eastlit. He’s written for Infinity House and has edited for Siblíní Journal and Thought Notebook. Catch him blogging at www.troycabida.wordpress.com.
Grounded

Grounded

Sticky Fingers

Sticky Fingers