WITHOUT MANGOES, THE DIASPORA TURNS TO POETRY
By Keana Labra Aguila
In conversation with Dorothy R. Santos
Because you’re right.
Because there is music in my partner’s laugh when I say I’m the bug-at sugat.
Because my tongues are mixed and my brain is slow to process.
Because honesty is born in the vocal cords.
Because I think I’m finally growing up, delayed queer adolescence, when I say wala ko kasabot with no pride, no shame.
Because I want to plant the future in dirt rife with determination, with hope.
Because when I think of home, I think not of place, but of person.
Because the first memory I have with Lola is of Clifford and learning the word utot with my realization and her smile.
Because even though I know the energy of those I love is right where I am, I am still afraid of leaving them behind.
Because even Lolo forgot his Cebuano.
Because the last thing he said to me was magaling kang magsalita ng Tagalog mo.
Because sometimes we are given gifts we do not want.
Because responsibility is also a curse.
Because the last thing I said to him was I love you.
Because I’ve learned gratitude should be our first instinct.
Because the stitching of community is made with the tail ends of stars.
Because even across screens tayo means we.
Because I am also sending you love.
Because I am also seeking peace.
