After Watching E.T.

By Dorian S. Merina

New Moon

Alt text for above image: The poem “New Moon” or “Bagong Buwan" in English and Tagalog, Tagalog rendered in Baybayin script. The Tagalog words lie to the right of or below the English words, weaving in and out.

Transcription: In English script: “New Moon: Look/ there above the hillside/ a slash of mineral light/ carved into the night sky/ samurang.” In Tagalog: "Bagong Buwan: Tignan mo doon / sa taas ng gulod / may liwanag inukit / sa madilim na langit / samurang. Read together: “New Moon, Bagong Buwan: Look, Tignan mo doon/ there above the hillside, sa taas ng gulod/ a slash of mineral light, may liwanag inukit/ carved into the night sky, sa madilim na langit/ samurang, samurang.” 

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After Watching E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial on Our Ancestral Domain Land

It is the moment of connection
or maybe of loss that sticks with you

the longest. Ten-year-old Elliot
glares down at humanity with clear rage

as the children flee their captors
in disguise. The blond girl with braids

holds out her hand, tears streaming down
her face, as the alien reaches back

to behold her, its heart glowing red
beneath slick amber skin.

My daughter asks question after question:
are those his parents? why are they opening his chest?

is he going home? and you can tell
she doesn't trust this creature

with the glowing heart —
will his neck fold back

into itself again?

It is the tale of severance
and homecoming that we are
always trying to remember.

Perhaps it will help her to understand
that we too have been exiled,

that we are tribal people,
or is that asking too much —

after all, it is just a story from Hollywood
that most fleeting of places

with its soundstages, greenscreens
and manufactured memory. But the dreams,
incandescent, can feel so real.

Later at night, she calls me
and I descend the wooden stairs

to kneel by her bedside and listen
to her breathing in the dark.

Earlier we drove up the river to clear
a new field for planting,

the birds heralding our arrival
with their song. And now, with the river behind us,

the fruit bats cut the black sky
into ribbons with their cries.

Tatay, what if the rain comes
in the window and enters
my nostrils then my body and then what?

Before I answer I think we also have our stories:
how the rainbow was created to bring together

the first lovers who had been divided by envy,
their child half-god half-mortal,

and we shudder every time her wings
dissolve in the lashing rain and she plunges

to earth not knowing if she will
be caught or not. I realize

so far I have had to translate from our language
all the questions in this story

and not only that

but the birds, their cries, the rain. And so —
how can they hear me in this land? How will you understand?

She is asleep, or close to sleep, when I finally answer,
her breathing like two small hands

clearing the shoreline into a smooth
oval of sand:

Ngay, anak, kaychuwa, nu minanuma sa tawu am natda dya.
Du tukón, du ahsung, du kakaywan.

Long ago there was a heart that glowed red on this land.
It was held by our people. Mapanmu mu ya, anak

you know this story because it is yours makayapu dimu
askanu mayvidi dimu miruwa and will return to you

this and every morning.

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Alt text for above image: The poem “Afterwards” or “Pagkatapos” in English and Tagalog, Tagalog rendered in Baybayin script. The Tagalog words lie to the right of or below the English words, weaving in and out.

Transcription: In English script: “Afterwards: The day’s discovery comes/ after the night’s long concealment/ a cold wind blows/ through the bare coconut grove./ Great kingdoms rise and fall./ If the sun emerges/ later this afternoon/ and the ground warms/ we will draw the earth into rows/ and plant again.” In Tagalog: "Pagkatapos: Dumating ang pagtutuklas ng araw / pagkatapos ng mahabang / pagtatago ng gabi / umihip ang napakalamig na hangin / sa niyogang malantad / ang mga kahariang makapangyarihang / ay lumalakas / at gumuho / kung lumitaw ang araw / mamayang hapon / at lumambot ang lupa / gagawin natin / ang mga tudling sa bukid / at magtatanim tayo ulit." Read together: “Afterwards, Pagkatapos: The day’s discovery comes Dumating ang pagtutuklas ng araw / after the night’s long concealment, pagkatapos ng mahabang/ pagtatago ng gabi/ a cold wind blows umihip ang napakalamig na hangin/ through the bare coconut grove. sa niyogang malantad/ Great kingdoms rise and fall./ ang mga kahariang makapangyarihang/ ay lumalakas/ at gumuho/ If the sun emerges kung lumitaw ang araw/ later this afternoon mamayang hapon/ and the ground warms at lumambot ang lupa/ we will draw the earth into rows gagawin natin/ ang mga tudling sa bukid/ and plant again./ at magtatanim tayo ulit”

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Author’s note:

“New Moon | Bagong Buwan” and “Afterwards | Pagkatapos” are written in English and Baybayin, the ancient script of the Philippine islands. However, the Baybayin symbols here express the sounds of the words in Tagalog, not English. For example "earth" is written as [1] in Baybayin, which read out loud is "lupa" or the Tagalog word for "earth." In that way, there are three language systems simultaneously interacting on the page. Baybayin is a syllabic writing system and grounded in nature. I wanted this poem to express some of that movement and the echo-effect of aural composition. The Baybayin font here is designed by the graphic artist Lloyd Zapanta.

[1]

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Dorian S. Merina is a poet, journalist and translator who lives in the northern Philippines. He is the author of Di Achichúk: Poems and Images from Batanes, winner of the 2020 Gintong Aklat Award and a finalist for the Philippines National Book Award. His latest book of poetry, yndio arxipelago, will be published by the University of the Philippines Press in 2025. He is a tribal member of the Ivatan people and is of mixed ancestry (Filipino/Irish/German).

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