(from the collection: Mt. Tumantangis and Other Poems on Sulu)
it haunts the people’s dream of comfort too.
the cozy rooms, the furnished halls
drive the cold out into the night
and into the poor man’s house, it nurses
the bleeding lungs, the muted mouth.
and when a launch docks beside the wharf
with shrill hoots in the early dawn
arrival is no more wakeful than
departures in the afternoon.
(All photos are courtesy of Harly Limlingan Marcuap of http://www.akrosdayunibers.com)
the waves of sulu
a boy contemplates the nipa huts
beneath the coconut trees as a patch
firewoods for the sacrificial pyre
and the land heaves beside the waves.
he rows as a speck in the sea
his arms full now, his eyes deep
scan the point on the beach
where once a father had dearly bled.
- when the lustered sea embraces the sand, is it to claim or cede its flotsam? when my mind sails with the rolling wind, is it to cast or catch a sparkle?
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