Father* Poem by Ulysses Cabinatan

He let me read books,
though some of the books he gave I didn't take a look
he wanted me to become a writer,
though I don't know, because I want to be a banker

he didn't want me to work at home
thinking that that's a work of house-helpers...
though I don't want to sit or just stay in bed busy with a book
I prefer to plant, climb a tree or clean the pond.

and silence is
My way of disagreeing with him...

during my teenager year,
I wanted to ask him a simple question
and still never open it to him...
just wanted to ask, 'is it easy to go to heaven? '


but he's not here now.
maybe the things I miss from him is arguing almost anything
that chamois is not as pronounced as shammy
and some words that I stress wrongly can have another meaning

but he's in the other world
wherever his soul is
just wanted to say to him
miss you dad, though we didn't agree much on almost anything

from religion, to food, to habits and to principle..
and still wanted to ask him..
'is it easy to go to heaven? '

*this was written during the Halloween