Ayi, a Firstborn

Got your email today, son.

You say all is fine back there

In the homeland, in the country

Of our loving and longing and yearning.

You do not tell me, of course,

How your mother and all mothers

Manage the pain of terror

In the streets, the congress, the senate

Of our lost, unnamed hopes.

Tell me of the raped minds, our own.

The big men sell our souls, you know,

Make a bargain with the highest bidder,

Mindless of who will die or be born

Before dying again and again

From not having lived.

You do not tell me

Of the rallies you are going

To word our anguish and fear.

I understand. We must keep on singing.

(For publication in the Eternal Portraits, Winter 2005)

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

Los Angeles, CA

Aug. 2004

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