The Enchanter

Raymundo Pandan Jr.

She descends from a land of famed hills,
But her voice ebbs, flows with the sea.
She tells, and every word chimes
Into our ears, the skin of her poems
Redolent with dreams of the past,
Our hands sailing across sea currents
For memory’s bells, flowers, hills.
A gecko falls away while evening prayers
Rise sleepily up to the ceiling,
And a new-born laughs at the holy sight.
Water tumbles from the heavens,
Past the roof which generously opens
Up to leaves, dark light, and wind,
Though her inflection tells us this is not
Rain, but blessing that upends the pans
Of our parched lives. This is a sight
Which will never fade, as her lips
Weave a vision into the night,
Her charmed words a garden where
The gecko spirits wander, a garden
Where rainwater chants endlessly
Upon the stony paths, where we close
Our eyes, our souls flowering
To the music of every enchantment.