Nasudi, dear:
Today, as I write
This letter,
I think of you:
Two years old in
A century of absence,
Two years old
In the changing
Of lights
And days
And years
In a land
So far away.
I dream for you:
Bright sunmoonstars
In Redondo Beach,
The site of summer lights,
Sunset shadows, too.
I remember you:
You hold my hand
On the sand
And I think
Of the distances
Between us.
I think of this loss:
Sunmoonstars
Keeping us
Apart.
I listen to you
As you say:
Hello, papa.
I thank you
For the hello:
I think of
The sun and
The moon and
The stars
So far away
From you.
I heave a sigh
And I tell you
In the gathering dusk
Of our migrants' life:
There are more
Fathers and daughters
Like us,
More if you count
The numbers
From the beginning
Of our history's
Tearing of families apart
For the remittance.
The big men export us.
Or we export ourselves.
Or both.
But then, but then,
We will get to watch
Our own sunmoonstars.
Loving you so dearly,
Popsy
Aurelio S. Agcaoili
Dec. 14, 2004
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