Sublimity in print.

I once thought Jesus Christ was Cebuano,

for I only ever heard the language used 

during holy mass.

 

But as a child,

I was more interested in the nearby Jollibee 

than the old priest’s homily;

perhaps that’s why I’m neither pious,

nor fluent in Binisaya.

 

I remember now that

a friend once asked me,

“Isn’t it strange how Churches have gates? 

Who exactly are they trying to keep out?”

 

God’s arms are open to everyone,

but the Church has its exceptions—

such as demons, thieves, the homeless,

and people who misprize their mother tongue.

 

But why do the vessels of God

insist on keeping the poor souls out

when it is them who need Him the most?

 

This I trust

like my own memory—

if Jesus Christ were to return

tomorrow, or next Sunday,

He would open the gates

to every Church in Cebu

and welcome all in this way:

“Siya nga moari kanako dili gutomon, 

ug siya nga mosalig kanako dili gayud uhawon.” 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linguist. Poet. Melancholia Personified.

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