Panangngaasi*

"There's so much suffering, but
ask for proof and I have none."
                         ~ Victoria Chang


We want to be as legible to the other as an eyelash
on a field of paper, a candle wick just after the flames
blow out. Once, I told a friend I wanted so badly to cry but
did not know where to start. She asked so kindly if I wanted
her to just listen on the other end of the line. But I could not
unstopper the bottle, could not find the beginning 
of the thread to pull out of itself and into the light. 
In street markets, vendors snip rice paper into shreds 
that they'll toss whole into boiling oil. When they puff up,
they are almost unrecognizable. Like ice floes on a hot 
lake, pieces of volcanic rock bubbling to the surface. 
Listen to them hiss as you toss a fistful of salt 
crystals into their crevices. Listen to their clamor 
before finally giving in to the austerities of grief.


* Ilocano; noun. Compassion, empathy