Eileen Tabios
Advance Condolences on February 24, 2022
Advance condolences
To families of those who will be killed
Survivors will keep battling
But that’s no consolation
Advance condolences
To those who love those who will die
Bucha
—hay(na)ku, April 2022
White cloths ripped
to shackle
sunflowers
Political Science Couplet
Russia invaded Ukraine—
The only beneficiary: Taiwan
Kharkiv
All roses became gray
The Proscenium Evaporates
—after “Who is Anastasiia Lenna? Former Miss Ukraine joins army against Russian troops,” WION Web Team, New Delhi, Feb. 27, 2022
I come from the Philippines
ranked fourth in the world
in producing Queens
for Miss Universe
(after the U.S., Venezuela
and Puerto Rico)—
a lowly statistic
elevated in a country
that needs distraction
from political corruption
and poverty—where
the diaspora must accommodate
what a motherland cannot
give to its own people.
When "people want to be around
someone because they’re pretty…
It’s like picking your breakfast cereals
based on color instead of taste.”
—John Green
Kapwa* notes the interconnection
of all matters, like beauty pageants
with political corruption
and poverty—both birthing
a diaspora to accommodate
what a motherland cannot
give to its own people.
When Miss Ukraine
Anastasia Lenna
traded a sash for an Ak-74,
high heels for combat boots,
mascara for shooting visors,
nail polish for black gloves,
and a sequined evening gown
for a black tactical vest,
I suddenly appreciated the grand
stages where death only
occurs metaphorically
to those whose losses
become a bouquet of roses
and an oversized crown
whose fake diamonds
cannot symbolize
the infinity of stars
with some dying there
and some birthed anew
With War as the Father
and Love as the Mother
Beauty exacts its price
___________________
* “Kapwa” is a Filipino indigenous trait on seeing the self in the other to posit the interconnection of all creatures across all of time
[Untitled Rippled Mirror Hay(na)ku]
Sunflowers
Wept from
Suddenly turning gray
Suddenly turning gray
All sunflowers
Wept
Sunflowers Became Gray, But
“There is a certain state of grace that is not loving.”
—from frank: sonnets by Diane Seuss
Cities bombed into rubble—
the grayness of ruins
are predictable—
What shocks lies
behind the remnants
of walls—souvenirs recalling
lives gutted then transformed
into history, instead of
continuing into the future—
such a premature evolution—
One lady insisted on returning
to her bombed house
to play her white piano
one more time—just one more
time—despite surroundings
of cracked windows,
flattened furniture and broken
tree limbs on the floor—
(“Sunflowers Became…”, continued from bottom left)
But we are two months
into a war by a dictator
who thought it would last
less than a week—to be
a dictator is to be a narcissist—
With daylight, sunflowers
appear again. No longer gray
their round faces are as golden
as the awed witness to
Ukrainian courage and fortitude:
a dazzled and dazzling sun—