Goodbye, cheeseburger

They call this heaven's gift:

Three heavy layers of thick bellies,
And two round cheeks that shamelessly swell
From the hard pinches of invisible harsh fingers.

Weak,

And scared
I despise the waterbed that cracks when I conceal
Pails of tears
And I long for maniac's wolf whistles
When everytime my shoes touch the streets
With my head in the deepest of my neck
A behemoth of mockery
Eats the tiniest of my intestines.

Grrr (twice)

If this is a gift from heaven
For Pete's sake
I am not as insensitive as the fattest fish in the Pacific
Even the fattest of pigs need a heart that cares
So pin a thumb tack in my second chin

Before I bid farewell,
To my favorite cheeseburger. 

Submitted for Analects VII, 2007

PS. One of my elder sisters, who happened to be --errr-- chubby, was my main inspiration for writing this. She has always told herself that she will already have a strict diet, but up to this date, she hasn't started yet.

"Goodbye, cheeseburger" is a poem I made in 2007, which I passed to my editor to be published supposedly in our literary folio back then. My editor unfortunately dumped it, saying the poem is too "selfish". Maybe he was right, maybe he was not.

This poem exaggeratedly, but actually talks about me. It talks about you. It talks about us, who are too conscious and discontented with how we look, with who we are.

Well, we can't be blamed for feeling such. Everyday, the society assaults us with images of men and women in televisions and magazines, which is the world's portrait of beauty. 

But the truth is, even before we are at our mother's womb, God already knew every detail about us. He knew the shape of our nose and the color of our skin. He knew if we are fat or skinny. He knew if we are short as David or tall as Goliath. He knew if we are good at Math or not. He knew if we are the shy-type or the aggressive-type. He knew if we have voice that belongs to the concert stage or voice that belongs to the CR.

We may not look so pleasing in others' (and in our own) mirror, but in God's eyes, we are His beautiful creation. And unless we are going to bear that in mind, we really couldn't help but compare ourselves to others and be unsatisfied with who we are.

The point is, I hope we will be careful with how we care about our body (and that includes being careful with what we eat) (and that includes eating too much cheeseburger) not because we are too displeased with how we look, but because we would want to honor and take good care of the body* that God has blessed us with. 

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." (1Corinthians 10:17) 

...which I am also guilty of. Well, I am not so into pork and processed meat. I could avoid too much sweets (just when it's too much). I am very fond of eating fruits and vegetables (when they are readily available on my table). I'd rather walk (for exercise) than ride in a taxi. I do not drink alcohol. I do not smoke.

But there is just one I find hard to resist: junk foods. Especially while at the office, I'd always love a bag of junk beside me on my table. I'd enjoy every salty bite but after the last piece, I'd be so guilty, I'd feel like I'm literally putting junk in my body. Good thing there's a medically-accepted instant remedy: I drink a lot of water (as much water as my stomach could contain) afterwards.
 

And good thing as of last medical exam, I've not yet grown a kidney stone or urinary tract infection! (But that, of course, doesn't give me the license to continue my chichiria-addiction).

Realization: We wake up everyday, alive and kicking. That, alone, is such a big blessing, which makes Him deserve our wholehearted praises and thanksgiving. Let's not ruin our body that God has graciously given.

Bid farewell now to your favorite cheeseburger! `wink.

          *Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body. 1Corinthians 6:19-20

Verses' vengeance

Mystical the turns and twists of the winds and waves are, for

A feeble duckling of once upon a time’s bittersweet fable:

Revived

Ignoring the pain of goodbyes

Though tears flood in the heart, though not a drop of rain understands

Escape the past, forget the scars left by the ogres’ laughs – cease

Stirring the odds and start reminiscing the meanness of once upon a time!

Alright, yesterday’s triumph is all yours. But the last silent hoot shall be mine.

Stay and get burnt, or leave and get drenched by my readied revenge

I shall leave no trace of pity, not a hint of mercy. To nobody.

Grief and fear and futility, my stomach has endured – through

Uttered and acted mockery. The duckling has craved for reverence, but found herself

Isolated, in the midst of shame, of disgrace, of infamy. Now:

Call the sanest of saints, for even the nicest of angels has limits!

Ogres have no place in my system. So long. Trolls.

June 28, 2008, 2110H

my CP wallpaper back then

Way back school paper days, when we were brainstorming for our literary folio, we came across this kind of poetry in which the first letter of each line spells out a certain word or phrase. It's called "acrostic poem" and I found it very nice.

I then came up with an idea to create an acrostic poem that bears my whole name. But of course, I will not flaunt it for readers' consumption, for personal gratification only. I planned to make a poem that will reflect who I am and express how I feel. A poem that will not pretend, a poem that is transparent.

And presto! The outcome was disaster. Though I (intentionally) used highfalutin words, any average reader would be certain that I was mad with the world when I wrote that.

Exaggerated though, but that was the time when I realized that I was not worth anything. I felt like I was betrayed by people whom I trust. I felt like nobody loves me and cares for me. My heart was full of hatred.

I hated the bullies in school. I hated those who made me apple of their eyes whenever it's joke time. I hated some of my friends when I realized that all along, they are not laughing "with" me, they are laughing "at" me. And I hated myself for allowing them to do those things to me. As a cheery, happy-go-lucky person that I was, I even naively enjoyed it. Until a person told me straight to my face one day "Is it really okay for you to always be an object of ridicule?"

I didn't mind it at once, but I had come to my boiling point when I heard that a senior of mine in the publication that time was hesitant to entrust to me the leadership of the organization not because of lack of ability, but because he doubts if I'll be respected by my subordinates-to-be.

I had come to my senses. I told myself I didn't deserve them, these people and how they see me as a mere laughingstock. I didn't need them in my life. I isolated myself from them and tried to be a different person - a detached, stern editor-in-chief. I was angry.

There goes the story behind "Verses' vengeance". (I was thinking that even just by scribbling this poem, I could comfort myself and promise revenge* to those who have done me wrong. Silly, huh.) But the story doesn't end just yet.

I was isolated from my friends. I seldom talk to people. I was not the easygoing person as I was before. I was no longer everybody's laughingstock. But I was still not happy.

Then one night, when I felt like nothing's going right, I remembered the words of a friend. He said our heart is like a vacuum. No matter what you put in there like fame, material riches, recognition, great job, good pals, etc, it will never really be contented. Only Jesus Christ satisfies a person's heart.

For 20 years, I have lived my life all by myself. But that time, I felt so helpless, I came to Him, and humbly acknowledged how much I needed Him.

Slowly, He took away the bitterness that almost made my heart stone. He freed me from all the pain and anger that I felt. He taught me to forgive... forgive myself and forgive other people. I also learned that forgiveness is two-way: I had to put off all the anger and put on love for them in my heart.

It was not an easy process though. It took denials and tears and eating my pride. But after all, it was worth it.

Now, I could just look at anyone with a light heart and a smile, because God has healed and renewed my heart. There may still be hard times with hard people, but Jesus said "forgive 77 times."

And looking back, I believe everything happened for a purpose, His purpose. First, so that I may always clothe myself with humility (Colossians 3:12), and second, so that I may pass on to others the comfort that I have received from God (2Corinthians 1:3-4).

My "verses' vengeance" experience may not be your story. It's actually a so shallow story for some; you may just roll an eyeball about it. But I believe, most of us, in one way or another, had been done wrong by other people. Everyone is keeping some pain or bitterness in his/her heart.

Are you ready to be freed? Are you ready to put off the hatred and put on love for them? Are you ready to forgive not once, not twice, but 77 times? Are you ready to be healed and renewed? Let go and let God...

          *Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:18

Poetic relics

I was browsing my old files when I was a student, when I saw the "Compilation of Poems" I made for our Humanities class exhibit on Aug.14, 2008.

I was like an adult who accidentally saw all the toys which I used to cherish as a little kid. I suddenly missed poetry.

I don't exactly remember why or how I had an appetite to compose poems. All I recall is that years back, I was amazed whenever I read poems, they're like music in my ears. I could tell if a poem is happy or sad, if it's mourning or rejoicing. It doesn't have to say much, the words just go straight to the heart.

And so, whenever I write a poem, it's not my fingertips that I use, it's my heartbeats. I do not make imaginations real, I imagine realities. My inner thorns then slowly transform into warm liquid beads, which then transform into rhymes.

I started to read the poems in my compilation one by one and the emotions enveloped in them flashed back in my mind. I was so overwhelmed - my poems are sweet written accounts of my colorful sepia past.

To my delight, my poems vary a lot in mood, in texture, in form, in melody. They talk about puppy love, friendship, teenage life, family, even concern for nature!

Some of them demurely talk about the feelings I have kept inside as a little girl, and my silent search for affection and acceptance as I was growing up.

Some of them scream for anger, for simple joys, for promise of revenge, for pain of rejection, for scars of heartbreaks.

Then I realized, this compilation is a beautiful reminder of how faithful God is, and how He works in my character, in my heart, in my life... just like a clay, being meticulously molded by caring, loving hands.*

And I'd love to share these poems to you! I'm gonna post them in my next blogs, and try to have some footnotes about how I feel that time while I was writing them, and my realizations thereafter.

God was there when I was lost and I didn't know Him yet. He was there when it's not merely the ink of my pen that's staining my piece of paper, it's my tears. And He was there when I found freedom from my fears, doubts, and shadows of the past, when I received Him in my heart and made Him Lord of my life.

But He's not finished with me yet. Just like you, I am also His work-in-progress, "being confident that He who began a good work in me will bring it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6).

There may be tests of character, there may be challenges, there may be pains, but let us not forget that we are clay, being shaped into perfection. We just have to put our faith and trust to our loving Potter.

          *Yet, O Lord, You are our Father. We are the clay, You are the potter; we are all the work of Your hand. Isaiah 64:8