My Papay And The Sea

He was "one with the sea,"
And there never was a day (as far as
I can remember), growing up
In my village--by the sea that
He was not one with it--rain or shine.
His name was Miguel, but I called him Papay.
He was my father's best friend,
And so rightfully, thankfully--my godfather.
Growing up, Christmas was, other than
My Nanay and Tatay--him for me.
I remember that on Christmas mornings (after church),
I'd run to his "harong" and always, he had
A "pamascua" of smoked fish (only the good and
The "magayon" kind) on a bamboo stick for me.
Many, many Christmases passed quickly, a "balikbayan"
I came. I saw (his "harong" was gone) and learned that
My Papay was no more. "He went out to fish one night
And did not come home," an old man told me.
Crying like the boy I was...the man in me shot back,
"Yes, he did...to be one with the sea."