Of Gifts and Poetry

...But I love your feet

only because they walked

upon the earth and upon

the wind and upon the waters,

until they found me.



---- Pablo Neruda, The Captain's Verses



I got a wonderful gift last Thursday from RV. Really embarrassed that I forgot to bring my gift for his long ago birthday, I accepted the gift and almost shouted in Greenbelt, full of glee when I saw that it was a book. (Yes, a geek, thank you very much.) It was Pablo Neruda's The Captain's Verses.



It was so beautiful it almost rendered me speechless.



Almost.



I have Neruda's other books of poetry and I was so surprised that RV knows (although I think he knows everything about me) that I liked poetry and so amazed that he gave me a book that I don’t have yet. I like poetry more than I like novels, classics, and drama. It's there at the top of my list. In my room, I have a section where I put my favorite books, and half of them are poetry books. The treasured books include Dickinson's Complete Collection of poems, Millay's Collection of Poems, Jewel's poetry, Shakespeare's Sonnets, Neruda's 100 Love Sonnets, and ee cummings collected works of poetry. I love them all and more than any other book in my library, these are read over and over again.



I remember feeling like this when Remcy gave me Emily Dickinson's poetry collection. Or when I found the last copy of Millay's in Powerbooks Pasay Road during a sale. It was giddy excitement and profound gratitude to the Lord above for putting exquisite words into the poets' minds to create such beautiful literature. There I was wishing I can find the words that will come out as striking as their poetry.



I love getting books as gifts and I am always touched that a person or a friend knows me well enough to recognize that I’d enjoy a good book more than trinkets or clothes given to me. When Liza told me she found ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings’, I drove to her place as soon as possible to get it and thanked her profusely. I received Dogeaters (let’s not mention who gave it to me) and Ria gave me Heartburn. Of course, I’ll be forever thankful to my mother, who bought me so many wonderful books that taught me how to appreciate literature and be among the very rare breed of enthusiastic, voracious readers my generation has.



Poetry though holds a special place in me. I cannot explain it. Novels or fiction takes me to places I can only imagine, or makes me feel things I may not recognized. But poetry heals the hurts of my spirit, and warms my soul. And Neruda’s book is no exception. He is a magnificent poet who can capture the essence of love and of loving: the pain, exquisite pleasure and glorious experience of it all. You can tell that he sees his one true love in another way no human being has seen her. The book truly is a splendid piece of work.



RV said that the book is from his personal collection of Neruda books. I cannot even imagine parting with any of my favorite books, even for a day or two to lend it to someone, let alone giving it as a gift. He’s a much better person than I am, and I’m so glad, and honored that I received such gift. He asked me to take care of it, for it holds a tremendous amount of sentimental value to him. I clutched the book on my chest, and made a promise I will certainly keep.



Yes, RV, I will.