(Angelo dela Cruz, an OFW, is poised to die.- a news item)
The picture tells all, Angelo.
The masked men, armed with faith,
And their guns are about to snap
Your back and take that as swee good luck.
They might call that too as a passport
To some heavens not found here in America
Nor in the countries where we toil
To pursue the dream we cannot have
At home and in the homeland.
We can only be afraid now
Of the morrow that is not yet come,
One defined by blood, ransomed by blood.
Do we blame your captors for this bad show?
Do we blame the tyrants for their rule
Of law, their rhetoric of pure sorrow?
I see the candles now in your hometown
The poor light for your journey
And the president sheds a tear or two.
It is always this way, Angelo,
This calvary that we carry, the cross
For centuries and centuries too heavy.
In the meantime, our politicos eagle eye
For bribes, their women for cheap loves.
Aurelio S. Agcaoili