Alimpatok
It feels as if a muse has been waking me up at around 3 am over the last few weeks, asking me to write. Something profound is flowing and I cannot deny this force is yearning for expression and form. Sitting at the keyboard, open to a message, I revisit the below poem that was given to me and my sisters last year while we were in the throes of the first ever all Pinay production of the Vagina Monologues here in Hawaii.
The poem, Alimpatok, was written by Ariel Acgaoili. Manong Ariel also graciously penned an Ilocano translation of the entire Vagina Monologues, so that the play could made culturally accessible to local communities here. Alimpatok, plainly translated if there could ever really be a word for it, means "orgasm"
I reprint the poem as a reminder to myself and readers that pukengkeng liberation is not a special reserve for females alone, but as the poem reflects, pukengkeng liberation is about the personal readiness to embrace and walk one's chosen path to, "The freedom that shows us/ The way, the one final way/ To ourselves". In other words, it is when we lay ourselves, open, deep and wide to creator/creation, we are the pulse of Alimpatok itself.
The poem was given to us at a time when we as a collective were searching for words in our mother tongue that described the sacred bodily pleasure of orgasm. But more deeply, I believe what we were seeking was a pathway to publicly language the pain and joy of our bodies as Pinays and Pinoys. To say to ourselves, it's really ok to speak the unspeakable-to break down the limits of embodied colonial bondage. Our tittering and public sharing around the body does not have to be only within the confines and artistry of green jokes.
Then and I believe, even more now, this naming and acknowledging of our carnal/flesh selves , remains a dangerous, but necessary act, especially when many of us loath and judge our bodies, so. When there is still so much energy vested in retaining a narrow vision of who we can love and how we can love...
When over and over again we are told that we are sinful and never enough...
perhaps pukengkeng liberation must affirmed as something for everybody in ways that heal any sense of seperation from each other.
Once given as a tawid (gift) to me, I offer the poem to you now:
Alimpatok
(For Amalia, Charlene, and Grace—and the Pukengkeng Liberation Front)
It is the peak of mountains.
It is the wisdom of having
Gone to the depths
Wild and quiet
Serene and turbulent
Like earthquakes coming
Alive in the middle of an evening
That came in early
That came in late
But came just the same
Too soon in a way
But not so
As we begin this rite
Of oneing
This rite with our souls singing
Seeking solace from solitude
And now this aloneness
This sadness of mornings
With you searching for a happy name
Asking for salving, soothing
With tides coming in low
From silenced furious waves
From seas we have yet to know
In our mind as in our language
Yours too, women
Of a long long time ago
Kindred spirits all
Drawing up the plan to savor
Salvation as in a menu
The ingredients those that free
Us all from the chains
Of tall trees and valleys
Of phalluses and wombs
Of bottomless pits and the rays of suns
Possessing our shared dreams.
This is the story of us peaking
Into heights unknown to make us see
More and more of what is hidden
In our words, secretive and mysterious,
Ready for the unmasking.
In this way we can cry out
In the best voice we know how.
Some kind of a eureka,I found it, I found it
In the to-and-fro of a war
We declare against false prophets
Of lust and lasting loves
Unto our fathers and mothers
Unto our brothers and sisters
Unto our comrades and patriots
Them who know
But do not tell us
The meaning of freedom
Without the token sounds
The freedom that shows us
The way, the one final way
To ourselves.
It is that tone and timber
That we hit upon reaching
The highest keys, falsetto
Like the wild winds
Whispering healing
Into our ears.
Magic Island, Ala Moana
Hon, HI
The poem, Alimpatok, was written by Ariel Acgaoili. Manong Ariel also graciously penned an Ilocano translation of the entire Vagina Monologues, so that the play could made culturally accessible to local communities here. Alimpatok, plainly translated if there could ever really be a word for it, means "orgasm"
I reprint the poem as a reminder to myself and readers that pukengkeng liberation is not a special reserve for females alone, but as the poem reflects, pukengkeng liberation is about the personal readiness to embrace and walk one's chosen path to, "The freedom that shows us/ The way, the one final way/ To ourselves". In other words, it is when we lay ourselves, open, deep and wide to creator/creation, we are the pulse of Alimpatok itself.
The poem was given to us at a time when we as a collective were searching for words in our mother tongue that described the sacred bodily pleasure of orgasm. But more deeply, I believe what we were seeking was a pathway to publicly language the pain and joy of our bodies as Pinays and Pinoys. To say to ourselves, it's really ok to speak the unspeakable-to break down the limits of embodied colonial bondage. Our tittering and public sharing around the body does not have to be only within the confines and artistry of green jokes.
Then and I believe, even more now, this naming and acknowledging of our carnal/flesh selves , remains a dangerous, but necessary act, especially when many of us loath and judge our bodies, so. When there is still so much energy vested in retaining a narrow vision of who we can love and how we can love...
When over and over again we are told that we are sinful and never enough...
perhaps pukengkeng liberation must affirmed as something for everybody in ways that heal any sense of seperation from each other.
Once given as a tawid (gift) to me, I offer the poem to you now:
Alimpatok
(For Amalia, Charlene, and Grace—and the Pukengkeng Liberation Front)
It is the peak of mountains.
It is the wisdom of having
Gone to the depths
Wild and quiet
Serene and turbulent
Like earthquakes coming
Alive in the middle of an evening
That came in early
That came in late
But came just the same
Too soon in a way
But not so
As we begin this rite
Of oneing
This rite with our souls singing
Seeking solace from solitude
And now this aloneness
This sadness of mornings
With you searching for a happy name
Asking for salving, soothing
With tides coming in low
From silenced furious waves
From seas we have yet to know
In our mind as in our language
Yours too, women
Of a long long time ago
Kindred spirits all
Drawing up the plan to savor
Salvation as in a menu
The ingredients those that free
Us all from the chains
Of tall trees and valleys
Of phalluses and wombs
Of bottomless pits and the rays of suns
Possessing our shared dreams.
This is the story of us peaking
Into heights unknown to make us see
More and more of what is hidden
In our words, secretive and mysterious,
Ready for the unmasking.
In this way we can cry out
In the best voice we know how.
Some kind of a eureka,I found it, I found it
In the to-and-fro of a war
We declare against false prophets
Of lust and lasting loves
Unto our fathers and mothers
Unto our brothers and sisters
Unto our comrades and patriots
Them who know
But do not tell us
The meaning of freedom
Without the token sounds
The freedom that shows us
The way, the one final way
To ourselves.
It is that tone and timber
That we hit upon reaching
The highest keys, falsetto
Like the wild winds
Whispering healing
Into our ears.
Magic Island, Ala Moana
Hon, HI
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