ETHER DIARIES

controlled breaths | uncontrolled thoughts

Komorebi

 This piece was written for the souvenir program of the 52nd Philippine Board of Anesthesiology Conferment Ceremonies. It draws inspiration from the ceremony’s central theme—Komorebi, the Japanese word for sunlight filtering through trees. This served as a metaphor for resilience and quiet hope amid adversity. Composed during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, the poem reflects the emotional landscape of that time: the weight of uncertainty, the ache of isolation, and the longing for light. Through imagery of shadow and surrender, it traces a journey from desolation to renewal, echoing the spirit of the anesthesiology community as it emerged from crisis with grace and resolve. (Edited version of the originally published poem)
Komorebi


In my dreams, I heard an ominous song,

An elegy of sorrow, deep and long,

A melody of melancholic symphony,

To Aokigahara, the sound has summoned me.

A blinding mist of obliviousness,

Has shrouded my tangled consciousness,

With every leaf, my soul was buried,

Embraced with gloom that winds have carried.

As lurking darkness consumed my existence,

My spirit was swallowed with aching despondence,

I closed my eyes, to the voice I surrender,

And desolation released my essence to wander.

I looked up and beyond the greens, I see,

A grafile glow, thwarted by a dancing tree,

I followed the faint ray, to fathom the beauty,

A spore of hope, the light of Komorebi!

Enthused with its glistening brilliance,

My troubled soul pursued its magnificence,

As I looked back, the woods have vanished,

Feeding my faith that was scored and famished.

Into the void, the song of anguish fades,

As the light of vigor passes through the shades,

My heart reborn, now sings the day,

A glorious ray unveiled my way. 

The hush of grief began to wane,

As light unstitched my woven pain, 

Each step unburdened what once clung tight, 

Komorebi whispered: choose the light. 

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I’m Macoy Cruz

  An obstetric anesthesiologist by training, a satirist by survival. I dwell in the quiet chaos behind the drapes: where vitals fluctuate, alarms scream, and consciousness is optional. This blog is my decompression chamber: part memoir, part manifesto, part controlled substance for the soul. Expect musings on medicine, life, and the paradox of staying awake in a system designed to sedate.

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