The night I almost

The night I almost stepped on the moon, it was just perched on the edge of the abyss. The stars had come down to meet the mountains and I couldn't tell where the earth ended and the cosmos began.

"Esai," a firefly spoke, or didn't speak or barely said. The bonfires around us were just as bright, the native children leaping over them like planets orbiting a star. I waited my turn and breathed my air, knowing that some turns never come to pass and no one can own the atmosphere. We rolled cigarettes in newspaper and confused Austen with Tolstoy; dreams of the future were sacrificed for a chance of living forever.

Drumbeats covered Talaingod, absorbed by the earth, reflected by the moon. The drumbeats said, Mindanao and the croaking frogs said, we're leaving you. I begged to stay with every glance and the natives smiled and kissed me goodbye. The moon was so bright, I really couldn't have missed it but my eyes were closed when I danced off the earth. "Esai," it spoke. And I watched my step.

"I'm not your planet. Don't step on me."