Escape to Talaingod

 

From the city's heat, where buildings rise,

We chase the road beneath open skies.

Leaving behind the concrete maze,

For mountain air and misty days.

The tires hum a wandering tune,

As valleys dance beneath the hazy sun at noon.

Rolling hills in emerald hues,

A painter's dream in misty blues.

The cold breeze whispers through the trees,

A lullaby of tranquil ease.

Forest cover, deep and wide,

Cradles us in nature's pride.

Wildflowers bloom, their colors bright,

Scattered like stars in golden light.

Rivers weave through earth so free,

Singing songs of destiny.

Here, where time slows to a sigh,

We breathe, we laugh, we touch the sky.

Talaingod calls -- soft yet strong,

A home in nature, where hearts belong.

Poetry Prompt: 

Sherry's prompt "Landscapes" at What's Going On?

A pocketful of sunshine and 

In My Deepest January

In my deepest January, the cold winds spoke,

Of years that passed, of hearts that broke.

Two decades long, a heavy tide,

A journey walked with pain as guide.

Once, anger burned where love had been,

A storm of questions deep within.

But time, so patient, carved a way,

Through endless nights to light of day.

I could have let the darkness win,

Let bitterness take root within.

Yet here I stand, unchained, unbowed,

A soul at peace, my heart unclouded.

No thirst for vengeance, no rage remains,

Only the grace that soothed my pains.

I found my strength, I learned to rise,

To see the world with softer eyes.

Blessed am I, for love endured,

For wounds have healed, for faith matured.

Injustice came, but did not stay --

It lost its power along the way.

In my deepest January, I stand so free,

Grateful for all that life gave me.

Not bound by loss, nor weighed by scars,

But thriving still, beneath the stars.

Poetry Prompt: 

Sherry's prompt "In Your Deepest January" at What's Going On?

A pocketful of sunshine and 

20 Years Today

20 years!!! That's how long it has been since you walked out our door, kissed me goodbye, and promised to see me later. You never did. 

That night 20 years ago, you went out with Philip Lam and his friend, Dr. Farouk Lu, for what was supposed to be an ordinary boys' night out. It should have been nothing more than laughter, stories, camaraderie. But none of you came back.

---------------

For years, the details of that night were shrouded in mystery, whispers and silence. Then, piece by piece, the truth began to emerge. According to accounts, Philip Lam was targeted because of a business rivalry- nothing more than a general merchandise store, NOT DRUGS OR CRIME. You and Dr. Lu were nothing more than "collateral damage." The lives of good, innocent men reduced to a cold, heartless term.

How can someone's life, someone's love, be reduced to two cold, empty words? How can anyone justify taking three lives as if they were nothing, as if their laughter, their dreams, their families didn't matter?

I remember pleading for James' life, begging for his safe return. In my desperation, I made a promise to stay silent if only they would let him come back to us alive. But silence didn't save him. It didn't save any of them. And here I am, two decades later, still waiting for the truth, for answers, for justice. 

They tell you time heals all wounds, BUT THAT'S A LIE! Time doesn't heal wounds like this. Time only deepens the ache of knowing that those responsible walk free, that promises of justice remain empty, that the world continues to turn as if their lives didn't matter. But they mattered. JAMES MATTERED.

It doesn't dull the ache of an empty chair at the dinner table. It doesn't soften the weight of unanswered questions or the LONGING OF ONE MORE EMBRACE, ONE MORE SMILE, ONE MORE MOMENT. Time doesn't heal when justice is denied. 

For 20 years, I've been WAITING. WATCHING. HOPING. Everyday, I've held onto the belief that someday, the truth would fully emerge, that someone, somewhere, would care enough to bring justice for James, Philip and Dr. Farouk. The prescription period may have passed, but God's promise to me has not.

I have not forgotten. I can't forget. And I won't stop telling this story because their lives deserve more than silence.

James was not just collateral damage. He was my first love and childhood sweetheart for 11 years, my husband for another 11 years, and the father of my three children. He was kind, generous to a fault, and full of life. In fact, that year in 2005, we planned a grand celebration - for the first time in his life- of a birthday party in September - his 40th. But alas, we lost him in January. 

To those who think time erases accountability, I want you to know: JUSTICE HAS NO EXPIRATION IN THE HEARTS OF THOSE WHO LOVE. I will keep remembering. I will keep speaking his name - JAMES LAO YAP - until the world recognizes and remembers what was taken from us. 

A pocketful of sunshine and