Nanay

Golden in years, platinum in grace . . .
The look of your face exhibits--not
The waning of love for me, in spite of
My many, many transgressions.

My coming home was like rain after
A long, long drought and--dearth.
My mere presence was, to one neighbor--
An apparition of a prodigal son--
Long considered dead.

Distraught and truly repentant,
I poured my heart out to Tatay
(Though way-too late), the error of my ways,
As Heaven released a torrent--
So heavy (as if saying),
"I am crying for you and with you," as
I shook feeling cold and weak.

I promised Tatay that, no more
On my account shall I cause you pain.

The harrowed lines on your face
Are hallow to me; they are telling of an era
Borne to bridge my present...
To yesterdays.

Under God's Heaven, there is no love greater
Than the love you have for me, my Nanay.