by Nathalie De Los Santos | Featured in Issue 02 - A Council of Stars
for my love, J
my flesh split fruit where grief swung
eyes like diamonds shining in the dark
silence fills spaces where music once lived
in my community, my home, and my heart—
—one two three—
when the media attention vanished after 04.26.2025
the group grief circles transformed into isolation
the people ready to help and post about it wanted a new injustice
this grief which sustains us
nobody wants
they all told us to go to one-to-one talk therapy
pay $225 an hour for peace
ingat ka became I can’t relate
from workplaces, friends, family outside our months of make-shift support
“if you feel anxious, count and box breathe.”
“that’s not going to help me rawdog this pain.”
—four five six—
dormant, swallowed whole
over long winter months i learnt:
grief can become a venue to attract attention that
a person did not know they were seeking
it is easy to make someone’s pain about yourself
you were afraid of being someone else’s stage when the cancer became real
my community showed you how easily others could make
your suffering
their self-improvement
their brand of “showing up”
but they were devouring what little light we had left
— seven —
no route outward, avoiding inward, we went skyward
the first constellation you found for me was Losong
you ran home from your walk just so I could see—and it was the first time I ever saw it in person!
you tried to help me find Mapulon because they’re my seven sisters
the electric glow of the city obscured the heavens
so we went back to sleep
in bed, above was full of faint stars calling
i could still see the houses and their lanterns outside bright
i wished for all the artificial light to fade
the city vanished as the lamps blinked out one by—
one— two— three— four— five— six—
in the pitch black, the silver constellations revealed themselves
i called out to goddess Bakunawa to spare the seventh moon
you already took— everything— the innocent—
the hurting— why him— make a night of me instead—
before the window and curtain seams slashed cold light lines through the dark
and the sky became the ceiling
i woke weeping in an embrace
grasping at our warmth
happy you were still there
solid— real— breathing—
my last and only light
Nathalie De Los Santos (NAT-uh-lee dee lohs SAHN-tohs; she/they) is a Filipino-Canadian writer, creative, and literary community organizer based in Vancouver, BC. She is the founder of PilipinxPages, a platform dedicated to celebrating Filipinx authors, and a co-organizer of the Filipino-Canadian Book Festival.
Nathalie was a fellow of the 2025 Lambda Literary Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices, where she developed her YA fantasy novel, Diyosa Mata, under the mentorship of Aiden Thomas. The manuscript was also workshopped at the McCormack Writing Center's (formerly Tin House) Speculative Fiction Online Workshop, led by H.D. Hunter. Her two communities from both spaces provide continued development support.
Her short story, “Bakunawa and the Seven Sisters,” was shortlisted for Fractured Lit's Ghost, Fable, and Fairy Tales Prize, judged by Dan Chaon. In 2024, she won Anvil Press's 3-Day Novel Contest for her novel Debt of the Heart, forthcoming from Anvil Press in Winter 2027. Her poetry collection, borrowed breath, was longlisted for the 2026 Pacific Northwest Chapbook Contest.
Her writing has appeared in Magdaragat: An Anthology of Filipino-Canadian Writing, The Globe and Mail, and other publications. She also hosts the Filipino Fairy Tales, Mythology, and Folklore podcast, which explores and celebrates the storytelling traditions of the Philippines.
Her current novel-in-progress, Bakunawa and the Seven Sisters, is supported by the Canada Council for the Arts and the BC Arts Council.
