Heather Ann Pulido

‘Hearts and Other Blackholes’ is more traditional in its approach to the scientific theme, but is also raw and poignant. The smooth, seamless combination of numbers and scientific facts with the narrator’s feelings is something to admire about the piece, as well as how it ties archaeology with space with love. The piece is wistful, and all-knowing, and it’s this tone that makes it utterly breathtaking to read.

Keerthisri Kannan, Editor-In-Chief

This is how I mark the time and place my heart starts beating again:

A team of archaeologists dug up teeth, hand, and foot bones in Callao Cave, Cagayan. That’s 243.1 kilometers away from the city we live in.

Some of the teeth were small, like those of modern human species. But some were as big as the teeth of ancestors who roamed the earth millions of years ago. Some scientists called it a mosaic species, one that had combined characteristics of modern and primitive human beings. Other experts said this could be proof that evolution did not happen in a straight line.

They said this also meant that 60,000 years ago, there were people living here in the Philippines and they may or may not have been related to the early humans found in Africa or Indonesia. 

New questions were raised. Where did these early humans come from? The island wasn’t connected to any land bridge. How did they reach it? Did they get here accidently, washed to our shore by a tsunami? Were they smart enough to build rafts or boats?

The more we know, the more we do not know.

My high school science teacher told me this. She also told me not to use my humanity as an excuse for my follies. But science teachers and scientists make mistakes, too. Einstein once doubted his belief that blackholes exist. Today, I and the rest of the world are looking at the first image of a blackhole. It looks like a setting sun with a hole punched through it.

Impossible is really just a word made to fill in the gap between what has been done and what we are yet to do. Four days ago, I walked up to you and asked you how you are. I’ve always wondered why this didn’t happen sooner when we live in the same 57.5 square kilometers of space. Maybe the real question is why it had to happen at all when it’s been five years since I stopped talking to you.

Did you know that a blackhole consumes everything in its path? I read that if we entered a blackhole, we’re either going to be stretched until our bodies are ripped apart or transformed into a single point of infinite density. I also don’t know what that is but I read it just means we “become one” with the blackhole.

All around us, the past, present, and future are realigning, reforming themselves, revealing spots on what used to appear as perfectly polished slates. The world is not what we think it is, nor what we think it used to be. I think it’s not a coincidence that I met you again. What if we are Past and Future personified? If we’re back together, that must mean the world is slowly regaining its balance. Or teetering off the edge. 

The blackhole in the picture is as large as six billion suns. 

People never believe me when I talk about how much I loved you.

A blackhole is something that collapses forever. It defies all laws of physics. 

People never believe me when I talk about how much I love you.

As you fall into a blackhole, you’ll see the stars bending, tumbling into it. 

Believe me when I talk about how much I love.

Nothing, not even light, escapes a blackhole. 

You.

Heather Ann Pulido

is an indigenous writer from Baguio City, Philippines. She is on a mission to write more and to write better. Her poems are forthcoming in underscore_magazine, and Moss Puppy Magazine. She also writes children’s stories and volunteers at an organization fighting for indigenous peoples’ rights.

Twitter: @heather_tries