How does one cling to hope when love — that is, real, true, genuine love, however defined by our personalized experiences — when it is actually based on feelings — the most perishable of our possessions?
I once was asked how I would feel if a certain song was dedicated to me. The song in question goes by the name of Lakambini, by Filipino singer-songwriter Ebe Dancel (b. May 30, 1976).
It is a romantic song-poem based on a real-life experience, crafted into a reimagination of the love inhabited by Andres Bonifacio (November 30, 1863 — May 10, 1897) and Gregoria de Jesus (May 9, 1875 — March 15, 1943) — a prominent pair belonging to Philippine history.
It starts with a verse that both insists and assures in staying together as the lovers part ways:
Kung ito na ang huli kong liham,
Ayoko syang masayang
Sa isang paalam,
Sa isang paalam(Should this be my last letter, I don’t want it to be wasted on one farewell)
Dahil ako ay mabubuhay
Sa ‘yong mga alaala
At sa puso mo,
Diwa ko’y titira(Because I will live on in your memories, and in your heart, my spirit shall remain)
‘Di mo na ako kailangang hanapin pa
Pikit ka lang sinta, ako ay nar’yan na(You need not look for me anymore, just close your eyes, love, and I have come)
Such assurance transforms into a plea not to be forgotten on the latter part of the song:
O lakambini ko,
Buhay ng buhay ko,
S’an ka man patungo,
Dalhin mo ako(Oh my lakambini [muse], the life of my life, wherever you go, carry me with you)
The refrain brings to mind Mary Oliver’s once poetizing of love as the “invisible and powerful and uncontrollable and beautiful and possibly even unsuitable,” — the force that does the choosing, as she once put it — which in turn reminds me of Herman Melville calling it a “divine magnet”.
As people chosen or pulled by this invisible, lifeless yet heavily animating force (which, in certain ways of meaningful living, one can also court back to oneself or conceive without any reason or motivation), the lovers, so long as they don’t deny love, will be alright:
Sa buhay mang ito
O sa kabilang mundo,
Hangga’t may pag-asang dumadaloy
Sa akin at sa’yo(In this life, or in another world, as long as there’s hope for me and you)
Hangga’t pag-ibig ay panig sa atin,
Kumagat man ang dilim,
‘Wag mangamba
Dahil liwanag tayo ng isa’t isa(As long as love is on our side, even when darkness comes, don’t (you) worry, because we are each other’s light)
Evident in the song’s refrain is the sentiment that prays for hope in their love even if such hope is not granted to them anymore during their lifetime, even when such hope outlives them, even when such hope lives in a life that is not theirs — such as in a love inhabited by another pair of human hearts in the far future: Even if that hope does not belong to them anymore.
This selfless ode to hope in love may also count as a nod to all the love that has been inhibited, is being inhibited, and yet to be inhibited.
O ‘wag ka nang matakot
Mundo’y hayaan mong umikot
Darating din ang
Panahon ng hinahon(Oh don’t you fret, let the world go on, the time of calm will come again)
Especially relevant to modern life, here’s an acknowledgment to living in the reality that time flies, especially in the age where we live: everything is fast-paced. It is an acknowledgment of how easy yet how human it is to be fearful of uncertainty, of getting missed out, with a pat of assurance on the back that stillness will come.
At ‘di mo na ako kailangang hanapin pa
Pikit ka lang sinta, ako ay nar’yan na(And you need not look for me anymore, just close your eyes, love, and I have come)
The repetitiveness of this line calls for the ease of getting summoned, as a lover resides on top of their beloved’s mind, and, in this case, the Lakambini’s mind. The lover serves as a force of calm, a sanctuary of relief, an undimmed light from the occasional unpleasantness of solitude — also evident in the refrain’s “liwanag tayo ng isa’t isa” Closing one’s eyes shuts off the heartbreaking reality of the Now — the now that is without the presence of the beloved — in order to allow ourselves to wander away to what most of us refer to as the “happy place,” even for just a little while.
There is an eternity to the love that is conceived for the beloved — independent from the linearity of the time we invented, from the fluidity of our character, from the space understood by science and nature, from the survival of our relationship with this person, from the survival of the love between us and our beloved. Such songs invite us to remember that this love being dedicated to us at this very moment is not finite in the way we widely perceive finitude. Change is constant, but this fragment of time where we celebrate the love we inhibit now is frozen in space-time, independent of our ideals and doubts. And we keep the memory alive as we carry the loves we inhabited through our days.
Perhaps this is how a moment lasts forever.
Listen to Lakambini with love, longing, and hope:
