First One

In the crossroads of my mind
I stopped, kissed the rain and
smelled the glory of the moon.
Just to see you and love you
in a time that will never come.


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A class discussion on poetry lead to an exercise where the professor asked each student to compose a poem according to the elements of poetry he mentioned during the discussion. In those times, all I know is that I'm only good with history. Words were never my dominion. But the poem I composed above, unexpectedly served as a floodgate for me to discover my penchant and natural affinity with writing.

The year was 1998. I was in first year college and struggling to adapt to the pop culture, which my life in high school had never prepared me for. Shorty before my bouts with anxiety, insecurity and paranoia deluded my first two years in the university, I armed myself with the gift to express my sentiments on parchment - and kept them well hidden for future references.

This evening, while rummaging again the trinkets corner of my closet, I found the booklet where my neophyte poems were written. Between then and now are already galaxies apart, nonetheless, I am glad that despite those troubled times, I have learned to value my own history.

Since my haiku poem about a cat, which I have written in grade six and was accused by my reading teacher to be copied elsewhere was lost, I consider this poem the first of my writings.