Mus… Bayk kita!
Ang ranggos pila na
Poon kang kita ngirit
Na napatambling sa karag na bisekleta
Sa magapo na tinampo, dae pa nahahaloy
Kita kadakol na beses nagpahingalo
Tanganing magpahuway; sa guiraray magbuwelo
Makalima asin nadagdagan pa
Ining manibela kung minsan ang kadena
Napapagal… Minasuko kung ika nakasampa
Sa tukawan ako nakaalalay
Asin an sarong kamot sa ibong na manibela
Ngirit na minadalagan asin naghahalat que tiyempong mabot-san ka.
“Kuya, ako tatao na!”
Makusog mong suriyaw
Pugol ang manibela asin sa pedal minasikad na maogma…
Ang karag na bisekleta maski ngunyan taklaon na
Masarig na naghahalat sa saimong pag-abot
Asin sa guiraray na pag-agda “Kuya, mus.. bayk kita!”
This simple Bicol poem is dedicated to my dear sister, Malou. “Mus… Bayk Kita!” conveys how I love her… how I wouldn’t want to give up on her… how willing I am to be her listening ears and comforting shoulders despite everything that has gone by.
Forgive me with my analogy, but I chose to resemble life [the life that we have had] with a bicycle. The two of us had fun when we were very young, struggling to remain steady on the wobbly bike… She, a bit hesitant to step on the sloppy pedals, was shaking while taking a clench on the handlebars. While I, with obvious prudence, support the saddle and the other handle of the bike…It is heartwarming to reminisce old memories like this one… [Sigh…]
Yet, life is not always an easy road. Sometimes, if not too often, we stumble… Hindrances, no matter how we avoid them, become startling blocks of our trip to remind us how splendid our journey can be amidst difficulties and challenges. After all, every journey ceases not with a disheartening stop-over, I believe.
My world crashed when one of the most disheartening instances in my life went off. My sister gets pregnant in the most untimely moment. She has to focus on her studies (as I always emphasized in our simple conversations and a couple of heart-to-heart talks) and prioritize it over her personal affairs. But then, she frustrated us…
Looking back on the most personal conversations we have had several times, I reflect on questions such as: “How far did I manage to be a good counselor to my sister?, Had I underemphasized how significant it is for her to be on the right track?, Weren’t my words encouraging enough?”
I am disheartened…. But I am not giving up… I will never give up on her …
I am thankful for the moments that she trusted me to coach her riding on the bike… and those times that she listened [though she didn’t pay heed] to whatever brotherly words I uttered then.
The bike which rusts in time might raze and clank the moment she opts to ask me for a leisurely bike but it is just around waiting for another ride. So is a brother’s caring heart that, amidst hurting, still looks forward to embracing her as it says, “It’s just okay. Let’s try another ride!”