Shooting Light, a sunset poem
Gene Boyd was buried on my birthday, but I didn't know about his burial until yesterday, when my father told me about it. Anyway, the night before my birthday, I couldn't sleep, so I started writing this poem. I actually started writing a poem with this title, also about sunsets, early last year, but I couldn't finish it. It was gene boyd's death that showed me how it should end. Last night, I couldn't sleep again, I had this weird, weird heavy feeling I couldn't describe. So I decided I wouldn't sleep till I finished this. I slept at 3 am.
I'm sure so many have written about him the past week. I only really got to talk to him when we were on the streets during kadayawan, and I was even planning to meet up with him when I go home for Christmas. But that’s the tragedy of life, you never know when the last time you see a person is the last time forever. I’m still disturbed by what happened so I can only imagine what people who spent more time with him must feel.
it's funny, because everyone who ventures into photography never fails to shoot at least one sunset. sometimes, like in my case, it's even the reason we get started on photography. that's why i wanted to write a poem about it last year after capturing an incredible sunset in bohol, a few months after i bought my camera. and for so long, my question has been--why do we take pains to shoot the sunset again and again and again? aren't all sunsets the same? now i got a glimpse of the answer: beacuse we seek the Light.
Photo taken in San Remigio, Cebu, May 2004, after the rain
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SHOOTING LIGHT
We were born
to seek the light.
No matter
how every western shore
of every island
faces the same western sky,
no two shadows
are ever the same,
we say, this fleeting sun touches
the land
at different spots, every time,
always a new light that transforms
each landscape of blue:
the edges of waves now
copper in a white electric sea,
smoldering clouds low,
the horizon on fire.
We capture it
a thousand times
from a thousand shores, tirelessly
hunting for undiscovered hues.
Yet we know it is the same light
we seek
in eternal return,
always the final hour,
we tensely lie in wait for,
the brilliance of the crimson sun
to save us from our darkness.
for Gene Boyd, and fellow lovers of the light
I like this, your poem -- unpretentious and reflective... indeed, goes well for good friend Gene Boyd who always loved life. I sometimes even thought that night, for Boyd, was something he just has to go through for the mere formality of it, in order to see the glory of light of every day. I guess, that's why he had this affair with sunsets -- as if to tell us to hold on to the light as much as we can, and capture the light as long as we can.
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Ecclesiastes 1:9 The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
BUT EVERY living and non-living thing looks up to the sun differently, day in, day out; and variantly, with one another.
Ecclesiastes 1:11 There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.
THE SUN remains as the sole and ultimate witness of man throughout the ages, throughout the world. We look up to it in the hope that we discover some truths about us. But it sets every afternoon, sometimes even selfishly as it brings with it all of man truth's, but also perhaps graciously -- to keep man from knowing his "darkest" secrets.
Your San Remigio after the rain is by far the best sunset shot I've ever seen on a computer screen. The poem may have something to do with that.
ReplyDeleteThanks again, for sharing.
Awesome... reminds me of my favorite Bible verse from the Book of Revelations: "They shall see the Lord face to face and bear His name on their foreheads. The night shall be no more. They will need no light from lamps not the sun for the Lord God shall be their light, and they shall reign forever!"
ReplyDeleteThanks for the wonderful poem... once again!