Sunday, August 21

Tears.

Love is many and truth is just,
And so we are; Both
What we choose,
And we refuse.

- Afternoon of a Sea Faun, Edith Tiempo (1919 - 2011)

I am never star-struck. Then I met Edith Tiempo.

Maybe met, in hindsight, is inaccurate. Maybe stared in awe in the face of such fragile, fragile sublimity? We went to her house one day last summer. All my lit subjects had a requisite Edith Tiempo poem. Of course, I was excited.

But I am not a formalist, I remember telling myself. Glenn, that you are in Dumaguete, bastion of formalism, is already odd. Stop this foolishness. Then Edith Tiempo walked into the expansive living room. Maybe walked is inaccurate. Maybe landed. It was a moment. Some of my co-fellows blinked back tears.

I didn't cry then. Then during a dinner dedicated to her, she gave a message. Coherent. Eloquent. At 92. Heartfelt. I pulled Philline outside, behind our war-era bus, in the guise of a smoke. We were both crying. We both found direction.

Thank you, Mom Edith. More tears today. But thank you.

1 comment:

  1. There is no denying she changed a lot of us—changed for the good.

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