Voyages of My Mind

4. I'll Weave A Poem for Grandmother

A thousand afternoons ago
You invited me to sit
On the floor beside you
Strips of bariw* leaves were
scattered on the floor.
You wanted to teach me
how to weave a mat.

But the mangoes outside
were too ripe
and the grass were so warm.
So I ran outside
And never came back.

Now, the bariw mat is finished
Wide and brown and warm.
I lay on it day and night
Thinking that in this mat
Maybe a part of you is woven
That I might still talk and laugh with.
How I wish I had learned
how to weave a mat
So that like you
Something that is me
will linger on
sturdier things than life.

And become the mat
that a child will sleep on
Never letting me go.

(Bariw is a tropical plant whose leaves are similar like the pineapple. When dried under the sun, it can be used as a material for woven handicrafts, and is known to last for many years.)