Van Gogh’s sunflowers —
all twelve of them —
so lively, lush,
standing, bending;
they do not submit
to ikebana’s poise
and posture —
golden — no — bronze —
beautiful yet strange.
I am certain
this is the color
of grief thick as impasto,
of desire leaping
like a gazelle,
beyond the canvas’s frame —
wedged in the folds
of saffron —
of smiles and laughter.
Outside, the rain
has ceased.
The sky,
topaz.
The soil ready
for sowing.
I clap my laptop shut,
murmur:
Art is—
Life is—
This piece was originally published in the Philippines Graphic.
HEZEKIAH LOUIE ZARASPE teaches literature and creative writing at the University of Santo Tomas (UST) and De La Salle University (DLSU). He holds a Bachelor of Secondary Education major in English and a Master of Arts in Creative Writing from UST. His fiction, nonfiction, and poetry in English and Filipino have been featured in INQUIRER.net, Rappler, Liwayway Magazine, and Locked Down, Lit Up: An Anthology of Creative Work in a Time of Quarantine (UP Press), among others. He was a fellow at the 2022 UST National Writers’ Workshop.
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