I wandered through the ruins of Ayutthaya,
carefully measuring my steps to avoid knocking over
the broken stones, withered walls, and headless statues.
Careful. Measured. Steps.
To keep the silences from making noise.
I’d like to keep things the way they are.
History seems to be easier to understand frozen,
Only its marks are beautiful.
The broken hand with its pinky or index finger mixing.
A missing piece of rock that could’ve been a smile,
a frown, or even a mouth made to whisper.
I’d tap the stacks of rocks,
and move the pieces of the broken statue
just so I could make a mark,
or complete the missing piece of the puzzle.
Joshua Berida is a wandering soul stuck in an office room. He graduated from the Ateneo de Manila University with a degree that is unrelated to literature. He blogs about his wanderings in The Wandering Juan.