Category Archives: Writing

Sent

I sent you words

that left my door

open to you

 

They were not easy

but they were

 

Forward,

honest,

and sincere

 

And they carried

all of my vulnerability

beneath

their ink

 

They laid

dried upon

one sheet of paper

 

That I folded into

a crisp, white

envelope

 

Which is no longer in my sight

 

But will soon be

in your possession

 

For the same mysterious one

-Diana Tan Domantay 04/06/2012

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I Used To

Something is happening to me. Internally, there is this change deepening.

I used to get sad a lot, unbearably sad. I used to cry a lot about the temporariness of life and of all of the things associated with life. I used to ponder over how fast everything moved and believed everything was fleeting. I would shed tears as if everything would change its mind and stay around forever instead (if it pitied me enough). I could only write to sort it all out. I could only write to speak to it.

I wanted to know the truth from every person I met. Thanks to my eagerness, I met many people. Luckily, most people were happy to share themselves and I received some rare, beautiful glimpses of the truth I had set out to understand. I miss those people. It’s not that they are gone. I just miss people and the moments I spend with them, though I no longer cry about this.

I used to desperately need people to love. I needed them to love more than I needed myself.

I used to spend my most favorite waking hours lost within this great appreciation of love for another and another. The more I felt, meant the more I was fulfilled. I realize now my own ability to love without details was a great force. But now, even more importantly, I realize how even greater those details can be. Still, I live and learn and love again as those things tend to happen.

I look back now and laugh at some of the ridiculousness of my own thinking. It’s true, I swooned only after finding out the best in another and another. but the longer and stronger I cared for populations beyond myself, suddenly I was the one who was empty. How did overpracticing an act that had always filled me up become what could conquer me?  I guess it was a slow becoming. Now I am finding acts to heal me, repair me to a new, better state of being.

Though through it all, I remember the times in which I would be the sole admirer of the best in another. I used to stubbornly defend what I knew to be true. I couldn’t help it. I had convinced myself. Strangely, those would be the times when I felt the least alone. Deep down I think that’s what I’ve always wanted the most.

It’s funny how your own certainty can make such pleasant company.

-Diana Tan Domantay 03/15/2012

To Frank O’Hara

You breathed notoriety into the beauty

That you believed one person possessed

 

All of the beauty in the whole world was incomparable to this beauty

That you believed one person possessed

 

So much that

you would trade anything for

a moment with

this one person

 

Give it up and

give it all away

 

To speak to this one person over

one common, sweet beverage

 

Dedicated to poet Frank O’Hara, especially for his poem “Having  A Coke With You”

-Diana Tan Domantay 01/15/2012

Why I Write

I write

because my heart

itself

does not know

yet understands

that in the end

it will

start to know

it will learn

its own ability to change

and remain

to realize itself

it will always save

-Diana Tan Domantay 02/27/2012