Presentation on theme: "The Dangers of This Craft Ma. Fatima V. Lim Wilson"— Presentation transcript:
1The Dangers of This Craft Ma. Fatima V. Lim Wilson How we sing, even as we are boiled alive.Those who torment us strain to sustainOur last notes. In a landscapeOf sameness, our crooked towers scrapeSensibilities, the well-trained eye.Why when starved, do we thrive?Remembrance of childhood’s breadRising. The taste of dulcifiedDropping of air. Our well-Meaning friends beg us, please,Speak in the measured tonesOf the mediocre. Show offOur mastery of muteness,The ambidextrous virtuosityOf work-stained hands. LetThose knitting needles, heavy-Handled axes fly. Why mustWe hear voices? See the moving
2Parts of still objects? And so, We insist we no longer seeThrough whitewashed walls.We confessed our dreams of flyingHave ceased. We scheme,The miracle of money keeping usAwake. Our pleasure liesIn memorizing the exactnessOf recipes. We are found to beMost eloquent when quiet, evenAs we argue happily with the teemingInhabitants opening doors in our heads.We stare seemingly unmoved at the fireOf our burning books, all the whileEnthralled, reading secrets in the flames.They think they’ve killed us offEven as somewhere, everywhere, a childRecalls the beat of the ocean womb.
3They dance upon our tombs, unaware Of how they have fallenVictim to the rhythmOf our singing bones.
4gift Ma. Fatima V. Lim Wilson I have imaginedMaking love with youSo oftenI am pulled ajarWhen you walk towards meMerely,With all your clothes on.We have come togetherCountlesslyThat I can bear the distanceSet by furniture and fabricsIntimate friends, the airAnd worst of allThe nights.
5I have come to believeIn the power of those scenesThat when I touch things:Bottles and handles,Light switches,And the soft insidesOf fruits,They squirm,PerturbedBy the violenceSurging through my thumbs.
6Strange. You have never kissed me. You brushed my elbow onceAs we crossed the streetAnd my lower extremitiesWere honey:Every nerve, pore and cellThe havocOf hundreds and hundredsOf singing, sweet bees.
7To R. Ma. Fatima V. Lim Wilson Though you sit beside me,Brush your shoulder against mine,And whisper close enoughTo lull my cold ear to sleep,I know you are somewhere else.You are in a day-old petalFloating on a puddleBorn from last night’s rain.
8You are in secret lines I read From some old poet’s heart-taleWhich my falling tears reveal,And wash away.You are in the little teeth of biting wind,The outstretched hands of fallen branches,And the silent stranger of a road I trod onWalking, walking home
9Your book of rhymes heavy in my folded arms Your voice still in my earsA lullaby of faded flowersWalking, walking homeShivering from yesterday’s rain.
10FATIMA LIM-WILSON (1961–)She studied English literature at the Ateneo de Manila University, graduating with a bachelor of arts cum laude in She traveled to Japan, as a scholar, and studied Japanese literature and language for one academic year. She then moved to the United States, where, in 1985, she earned an M.A. in English literature with an emphasis in creative writing from the State University of New York at Buffalo. She moved back to the Philippines and from 1986 to 1987 worked as the confidential assistant to Rene Saguisag, the spokesperson for the Corazon Aquino administration. When Saguisag won a senate seat, Lim-Wilson served as his confidential assistant from 1987 to She traveled back to the United States to continue graduate education and completed a Ph.D. in creative writing from the University of Denver in Just before finishing the doctorate, Lim-Wilson published her first collection, Wandering Roots/From the Hothouse, which won both the Philippine National Book Award and the Colorado Book Award.As a notable success in the world of creative writing, Lim-Wilson has received numerous awards, scholarships, and grants worldwide, which include Palanca Awards (Philippines) and scholarships from the Universities of Vienna and Oslo, Oxford University, Uppsala University in Sweden, and University