Heights Ateneo — The Official Literary and Artistic Publication and Organization of the Ateneo de Manila University
Battlegrounds within us
where we Bones of the Dead
fight to come alive.
- Tomas Tranströmer
Whet a stone to kiss
not for what springs
beyond the millennium tree
but for me, kiss it for
when language is
if only for its own sake.
What, to witness the
bearing, those indigo horses,
that bear in me, the
scales of Babel.
This claw of mineral makes a
historian out of everyone.
Historian of what wreckage? I asked myself.
What was it of this century,
the orifice, the horses,
the failure, the undone spirit,
that was the happening?
You could do this thing for a living,
I thought while going over the material
for this poem.
I couldn’t stop holding you
like a thing of the future.
I said, Can’t you make it slow down though
the stone in my garden remained unturned.
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