NaPoWriMo#10: Undone

Undone
By Justine C. Tajonera

The heat has stolen my words.
At noon, the air is still and humid and presses
against me as I leave the building. I shield myself with
an umbrella but my head has already started to pound.
Last Tuesday I heard in the news that the temperature
in Quezon City was the same as a slight fever.
Last summer was the hottest on record.
It may just be eclipsed.
I try to remember days as hot as these. I cannot.
Another thirty days like this is unbearable.
In the poles, I imagine ice shelves sliding into the sea.
I can almost see the arms of coral reefs bleaching
in agony. I have something to do with this
that cannot be undone. Forgiveness will not soothe
the earth, the air, the oceans. But it is forgiveness
that I ask for in this enveloping, inescapable
hell of heat.

Crossing Over

by Justine C. Tajonera

There is one final journey in
this life that I used to fear
but now
anticipate.

It is the last of all travels,
the final country
that outstrips all the
space in
the universe.

It is the last and
great
crossing over,
the moment of reckoning,
the confirmation of heaven,
hell and
divinity.

The veil is thin
and crosses into my life,
taking those I love,
those I do not know,
those I will never
know.

I don't know why
I am so sure
that this last port
will not be bleak,
that it will be
a bright glimmer
from across
an ocean,
a beautiful coast,
a nothingness
that is also
everything.

And there I am
perfect, whole
and
complete.

(Feb. 11, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianauer/3274615418/