The Revolution is a Poem, Ayi

This is for you, son, a poet

Of a people lost a long time ago.



Evenings here come early in autumn

And I read your email announcing

Your coming into the door of dark dawns.



We are a people with no memory, I know.



We are a people with no story, you know.



Together, we string the litanies

Of failed tunes because hunger

Raped our throat with a singsong

We borrow from the eclipse of moons.



I see the sad lines of your poem

As I watch these Torrance skies slashed

By winds fierce and furious, the same

Winds that visit the villages of our

Risky rebellions, late as they are.



I cannot tell it is the falling

Of faint leaves dried up by

The sudden seasons

Surging in our soul.





Aurelio S. Agcaoili

2004