Alegria Imperial, a frequent contributor to this blog’s poetry pages, shared with me this meditation on an important upcoming transition in her life. Originally from the Philippines, she will now have dual citizenship in her adopted country, Canada. Her spare, elegant language and attunement to nature show the influence of yet another country, Japan, as her writing has been shaped by the discipline of studying haiku and tanka.
Alegria says of her multiple identities: “I’m about to take my oath as a Candian citizen and pledge allegiance to Queen Elizabeth II! I find it both exhilarating and ironic (the pledge of allegiance, in particular); here I am coming from a country that fought for freedom from Spanish royalty for 300 years, regained it, lost it again, and gained it back, but chosing to move to Canada I will now willingly become a subject to a queen in a few days.”
this change of name
by Alegria Imperial
it is
a matter of spelling
only
this change of name
or am i fooling
the skies i look up to
the clouds
none i can name
the mountains
that shimmer
stealing in in stead
the names
of mountain ranges
facing East
among its jungles
my spirit roosts
alien snow
now smothers
my laughter
i drift aground
is earth
unlike the sun
untouched
by sorrow?
i hear
from mourning doves
the language
of dawns
i mismatch
evening clouds
in my dreams
the chill stays
yet the sparrow
shares its songs
that seep into my sleep
lull my world
i regain my name
on Hollyburn
where a lotus by itself
on the lake
–such poignancy–
mirorring my loneliness
soaks the sun
as if enough
i trail the buds
lined along the Fraser’s North Arm
winding down and up
the river bed
the tide cuts a line
between my dreams and the sky
ripples catch my breathing
in rhythmic sighs
i’m scaling the breast
of Burnaby Mounains
my soul resists
its longings
i’m close to home
close to sinking
in the foam
skirting Horseshoe Bay
an eagle skims
my rhyming
my longings weave
in and out of the air
on a skein
of cherry blossoms
once only paintings on scrolls
i learn to haiku
–thinking of moths
in my childhood those slivers of light
that die on the light
and fade in the morning–
on my waking
i am who has always been
the city aground on my steps
whose name i can now say
even in sleep–
Vancouver