Dreamcatcher
The night you left for Coron,
You gave me a present —
A dreamcatcher.
So, you said, the nightmares would stop.
You made it yourself, you said,
And as I turned it over in my hands
I wondered,
How many hours you must have spent
Tying these knots,
Weaving bead and string.
Beautiful, this agimat, meant to trap the monsters in my head
Like flies in a spider’s web.
But the monsters in my head
Are not the supernatural kind.
They will not be stopped
With a stake through the heart,
Nor a silver bullet
Nor salt and garlic,
Nor holy water or a blessed crucifix.
At least not like flies in a spider’s web.
So in Coron, dream of me,
That my heart may be quiet,
If only in your dreams.
- Written ages ago for an old friend who walked the streets of Puerto Princesa and whom the kids called "JC."
