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Writer's pictureJireh Grace Pihoc

Mycelium by the Door

Updated: Jul 14, 2023

"Lord, punuin niyo po ng angels niyo bawat sulok ng kwarto ko, bawat sulok ng bahay namin..." As a child aged 7, to God I'd always imagine and pray to be surrounded by angels exactly like this scene below:



What better time to ask for the Holy Spirit and His messengers to guard over me but today, during the daily hours I get afraid and disturbed. I made this poem a month ago, a reminder that amidst my internal wars, someone watched over, covered, and comforted me. To my angels, I am grateful.


A chapbook of poetry, of guardians seen and unseen, who touch and to touch.



Mycelium by the Door


The clock struck 25 past midnight

To find doors within sight

Closed on all fours, no handle within reach

Creeping rails and stiles styled in the ancients

Haunted, I lay outside captured among the gold fields

The rice falling from the chaffe

Two doors side by side, wolves charged changing guards

Challenged I am I tamed

One shut— I cannot leave; hence not live

The other sealed a scarlet thumb pushed open

Where they took me in to nurse

There he held my hands unclenched from a fist hurled at prickly heat

As sour grapes pressed down my ear

They warmed my back turned cold and alone

Of the armour I wear like a soldier by the door

He cooled my face when it boiled

My mind blinking, eyes whipped blind once more

There He called my name, dusted off its letters

Tore spiders' webs inside, He knit my mind at once

Lost pearls He strings through a needle from the hays

He fingerprints Aurora's heart asleep on the ocean floor by the day

Her spirit guards round the clock in 7

The Law of the seas, no struts to cross the heavens

The good declared through 70 times 7

Its cost unsunk by 777

Not to shut, a door appears open

The breath of myceliums alive from the den


 

Another poem I wrote below for one of my many angels I've known through my darkest months, memories of which and of him I forget so often as I fight to recover much peace in silence this year.


Cyclops

He pronounced and I heard

Once in many ways

Dosed in ounces


Deck 08


Ones in countless ounces

Clues though and when clueless

The things he did for me

Which now in confusion

And at times without sense I often forget

Four loves from two

Here, I hear in Romania

Yet in two, a Miame

Kittens singing in Ephesus

Like I was 10 through more than 80 days

My roads which traveled thru many a word

My Microsoft Encarta world

The Sahara— to desert raining dogs in cats

A frozen Anna defrosted back to Elsa

My highest mountain in Mt. Fuji

— to recover, the ark after the flood

Paul in Constantinople, John in Turk turbine

Brisbane— though an arrow shot

Further grilled into a 20-peso bill

Only to be drawn back towards the hill

Where He fed two thousand

From two fish with loaves revealed as hidden manna

Where I heard where birds are

And saw permanence in mountain ranges so created

Yet chaos in noises beyond so dispersed

I'm crossed, I cross, my cross he crossed

Like Christ who covered my shame

And when I'm Malay, he says Quebec

"The sun rising from the west, the third quad

Which falls on grass, fenced the house on the second

Shading the road that should have shone

Natural for the first, shading itself"

So in Mactan, a Lapu-lapu

My battle cry I can no longer endure

Losing life on earth I can no longer live

To trust I am being saved

Thru patterns I am shifted in, withdrawn from

In cold waters to feel the warmth of kinship

— A radiance to hold and see the truth

In knowing my faith in Him will save




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