The burden of understanding

a different body by Lean Borlongan, translated by Eric Abalajon (self-published, 2025)

 

If only he could stop
the involuntary movements
of his hands
always shaking
left and right, if only
his tongue and lips were not twisted
if only his head
hadn't filled with fluid
if only he were born full-term
he would not
write poetry
about failed loves.

["The Poet"]

 

By page 30 of this collection, one reads a college application form in which the applicant (the poet) is asked if he has a disability (Yes / No). The applicant puts a check beside No. With that simple lie, the reader can sense a personal world shifting in its course.

Here is a poetry collection that does not announce its difference lightly. It tackles the themes of inclusivity and disability in a manner that suspends and redraws our assumptions about inclusivity and disability. One reads and recognizes the truths behind the lines, the hurt and pain that must have accompanied their writing.

The title of the collection was taken from "Tonight," in which the disabled poet imagined himself in the body of another, "longing / desiring to live / in a different body?" To be different can be a curse, but the poet chose to express his longings and desires to give shape to his singularity.

The whole sequence was capped with "Until Believed," a powerful ending that is as close to a manifesto or poetics as there can ever be about disability. It began with the circumstances and limitations faced by a person with disability "in a society / where a broken body / is nothing special":

To be disabled
is to be mocked
to be shouted at
in the streets
pelted with insults
reprimanded by the guard
refused at restaurants
denied purchase
barred entrance
locked out. 

Each stanza began with the same line: "To be disabled" ("Ang kapansanan"). It was almost like a repeated line in a famous poem, "The guerrilla is like a poet," but here a narrative was being limned, its arc moving from physical limitation to defeat and eventually to resistance. 

As the poet found his voice, he came to terms with his physical self and his literary abilities. The poet as a PWD was also a survivor and resistance fighter.

To be disabled
is to defy limits
and boundaries
to continue fighting
even when the heart and mind
are bruised.

To be disabled
is to dare
to challenge everyone
to question their own beliefs
and to change the order of things.

To be disabled 
is just a part of me.
Not the whole of me. 

And therein lies the poet's mastery of himself. His physical condition does not wholly define him, as he is much more than this. He was not another acronym or a broken body. In this collection, his body may be the site of his poetry, but his poetry shines through to illuminate the fullness of his humanity.

The poet's actual medical records—detailing the results of his medical procedures and diagnoses—were interspersed with the poems in this bilingual edition. These documents authenticate and blur how we receive these lines. The objective value of these unfeeling, scientific documents stands in contrast to the subjective feelings of personal poetry. 

In lines of poetry "lie emotions / that can't be shown openly / ... / lie my passion / my sincerity / my true voice" [from "In Poetry"]. The poet gave voice to none other than himself. 

We were privy to a very personal journey as the poems contextualized an experience that was not only lived but relived.

A tilted, swaying head
is mocked for always being
drunk. I drank and drank –
no matter how bitter
no matter how I sank
I will wake up to my own affliction. 

[from "Drunk"] 

The poet woke up daily to his own affliction. And daily, he came face to face with people's presumptions and assumptions about what he could and could not do. In "People," the poet turned the tables on the able-bodied citizens who had misunderstood him for most of his life.

Though they are unaware 
of their prejudice
I am consciously judging.
These sons of bitches
look like idiots.
I am smarter than them. 

The poet then shifted the "burden of understanding" his condition from himself to the other people, focusing instead on his understanding of their misunderstanding. 

Yet still, I bear
the burden 
of understanding.
They only wish
to get their message across.

The disabled poet's empathy for the non-disabled flipped the perspective. The poet has demonstrated a generosity of another order.

In the body of the poem
the veins don't fidget.
Lips have a voice that is
ready to share secrets
and depth. ...
.......................................
I am conversing
with readers
even only for a moment
with an abled body.

[from "In Poetry II"]

He has put himself in the shoes of others. He has glimpsed his condition from the perspective of others and has decided to express what he found in his poems.

In a different body, an individual has found his profession in poetry. His declaration was unequivocal: here I am in all my profound humanity. This is a book that overcame the odds. Its translator, Eric Abalajon, has made creative decisions that negotiate the idiomatic uses and quirks of the Filipino language. It would require deep sensitivity on the part of the translator to convey Borlongan's poetry. I believe that this is Abalajon's first published book of translation. For both poet and translator, this bilingual edition was a profound meditation on disability and humanity.