finluithiel | (no subject)

I was helping my sister look for a poem suitable for sharing with her creative writing class tomorrow, when I found my copies of Eric Gamalinda's poetry. Seriously, that man is my favorite English-writing poet, but I couldn't pinpoint just why I love his poetry so much. He grew up in the Philippines, but he doesn't write like a Filipino. He's living in the US right now, but he doesn't write like an American. His style is...well, I can't explain it. You just have to read him for yourself, I guess.

Anyway, the poem my sister eventually chose is, of course, by Gamalinda. It's fairly simple and straightforward.

You Can Choose Your Afterlife
By Eric Gamalinda

according to the strange customs
of the T’boli
who believe we are not judged
by good or evil
but by the kind of death
we meet: to die by the sword
is to enter the kingdom
where everything
even the sound of water
is red They welcome you there
with the tintinnabulation
of copper bells
and the lamentation
of bamboo violins
and all night long
a wounded sun hovers
over your place of business
And those who drown
return to the navel of the sea
(that’s what they call it)
where they become subjects
of Fon Muhin, god
of all creatures
who breathe water And those
who die of sickness
go to Mogul
where they receive everything
they’ve always desired
but are not free of suffering
And those who kill themselves
go to a place exactly like earth
but where everything sways
even in sleep
Arnie you didn’t tell us
why you wanted
to go
we can only imagine you
in a world where
you can’t keep a cup
of coffee still
and people keep changing
the rules for soccer
because the ball
keeps rolling away
You won’t miss us
everything moves in the same
direction You were always
one step ahead