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May is Asian Pacific American Heritage Month
In celebration of the conclusion of this month, I focus on three women poets from the Republic of the Philippines:
Ophelia Alacantara Dimalanta (b. 1932 – d. 2010) was a revered musician, poet, Ph.D. who wrote many poetry books and received many awards during her lifetime. Here is an excerpt from a poem by her on childbirth:
“There will be no sleep. No twilight calm, no pain
No syllables but pure primal
Rhythmic knowing, an urgent
Forward flow, a powerful arched
Wave, love rhythm, leaves
Opening, opening.”
Merlie Alunan was born in 1943. She’s a teacher in Leyte with five children and writes in Cebuano or Waray. Here’s an excerpt from a long poem by Merlie: Tales of the Spiderwoman
“When your shadow crosses my door,
please enter without fear
But remember not to ask where I’d been
or what had fed me in this empty room
curtained with fine webs of silk.
Ignore the seethe of all my memories
Come, take my hand
I am human at your touch.”
Luisa A. Igloria is originally from Baguio and is the author of 16 books. She served as the 20th Poet Laureate of the U.S. state of Virginia from 2020 to 2022. Here is a complete poem by her. A ghazal is an Arabic love poem with a recurring rhyme and a limited number of stanzas.
Ghazal, With Cow Burial
By LUISA A. IGLORIA
“There are only 31 horse burials in Britain and they are all with men.”
Out of a pit, they’ve found a woman’s bones – whittled by time
bearded by dust, clutching the ambered remains of a cow.
Was she matriarch, widow, wife? Did she die struck by illness or blight?
archeologists say her wealth and status are proven by this cow.
Some days, I quip to friends and family: my name might as well be
Bob (short for Beast of Burden). But life’s yoke is heavier than a cow.
What would I want to take with me? In Chinese burials
the dead are ferried to the afterlife: not on cows
but in paper limousines with symbols for wealth: coins, bills, sweets,
cigars, what one liked here enough to take to there; but not a cow –
In the winding Cordilleras I call home, the dead are neatly tucked among
the hills, with jars of betel nut and agate beads – never with a cow.
A friend reminds me: in Hindu myth, should the population
be in danger, they’ll save the women, children, and the cows.
The cow that in this life was a cow, does it remain the same? Does it dream
of feathered grass in the fields, of gnats, the low symphony of fellow cows
chewing the cud? They poke at beetles the color of jewels –
embellishments on face plates of sleeping mummies. The cow
as sacrifice, as plenty, as months of food and fat and solid warmth.
And the woman: how was she loved, missed, valued more than cow? ”
I sincerely hope readers will be inspired to check out more Philippine poets.
