The old man walks, bent and wobbling on
a stick, the crease lined his forehead as
the years rolls on, like a windmill.
Beneath his crinkled demeanour lies the
sage in him, for from his mouth as he
speaks pours the fire of silent wisdom.
"What have you kept secret from us, dear
sir," I ask him, and he finds a stool to sit on
in a corner, looking bemused.
The great, great grandfather in you, he
looks deep into my eyes, as if pleading:
"Don't you remember?"
And I sit in front of him, as if genuflecting,
summoning the courage to ask what
he means: "How's that, sir?"
He ponders then tears gently flow down
his tender cheeks. "I'm so unknown in
history you cannot possibly know."
And neither will you know why, he keeps
on, till you ask that question now. "We
have something in common."
"Old man, I saw you a while ago inside
the church, begging for alms, and took
pity on you.and so offerred you bread."
"And you wrapped the bread with your
scarf, didn't you, as you handed it to me?"
Then I notice the old man tremble.
"I used to carry a lot of weight on my
shoulders all my life, even taking on those
of others." He looks at me again.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go," I say now, and
no sooner do I turn to go than he calls
out a chilling name I knew! "Veronica!"
"You were a woman in a previous life, a
saint that I wasn't and am not. I was Simeon
who helped carry Jesus' cross, remember?"
And, I now remember him, the old man,
as we meet again in the present. I saw
him do it then I wiped the Lord's face!
August 8, 2012
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Comments
Thank you Dude - this stuff reminds me what I have had forgotten so long. BTW, humupa na ba ang pag-ulan jan sa Manila?
Yep the flood has receded, dude.