I fed you rice and salt for breakfast, I heard, a good body was a mana.

I gave you water for your dense body, it cleansed yesterday’s old pile of residue.

We won’t have more of this every day, for working hard doesn’t mean earning much.

Sometimes. It simply means be grateful for what you have.

My dear, there will be times when sickness will devour your body, and

My eyes can only watch and pray for money don’t come when we are ill,

But when we are well.

We look for shelter elsewhere and make do of bamboo shacks, and

banana leaves. You called out and said the gods must have hated my family!

And pointed the neatly painted walls of Aling Nena’s residence on a hillock

For many years, you said, Aling Nena will have to please me one day.

As you witness her roaring voice to river folks who would want nothing, but water for their cows

And pigs.

Every day, you start your day with a frowning face, busy hands and days old shirt.

For earning much means working harder. Mana will not come but only for the rich

Climbing up the hill would mean heavy legs and failing eyes.

But Aling Nena would have to please you one day, and today is that day.

You brought an ax to enter her room, you made your way to claim her blood

And, pour them down on your bamboo shacks. Now, God must hate my family!

And soon, it will rise up your new home with her blood.




Today the rain ruined my umbrella
My hair as if a man had poured sweet wine over, my arms flapped like a native duck.
And It all came back how you would wish a raincoat was sent for me.
Today the rain had broken up in the air and my feet were too idle for everyone’s stomping shoes to get a seat among the vultures in the zoo. But the servant leads like soft rain pattering; leaking through the roof.