A PLAN TO SURVIVE
[How do we plan to survive in the coming days (if help is not coming)?--- Augusto Corro, mayor, Daangbantayan, Cebu mayor]
We can imagine this: manok Bisaya, tinuwang.
We will put in lots of ginger, the native kind too
The kind that lived on the land, at the foot of the hill
Where once, Daangbantayan was free to dream.
It could become a meal of a lifetime, memorable
As memorable can be: the soup, warm and inviting
Gets into the guts, and there reminds us that life
Is worth living despite the need to coax the sea
To calm down, restrain its rage so we can swim
On its waters once more, and lie flat on our back
And count the stars in the early evening hours
Identify where hope is in the interstices of the dark
And where song is between the sparkle of light.
But let us go back to the promise of the chicken soup.
We can have the pepper leaves, green in their offering
Of life anew, something beyond the watery grave
That could not give us cleansing, not now, even
As we think of this meal that is about to come.
We put in some green papaya plucked from the fields
Of this place that once, once, there was feasting
For all the hungry, for all those who have come here
To live, love, and laugh, people from all over where
Dreams died, and the torrents took delight in the dark
Night, and where in the morning hours we will sing.
Hon, HI/
Nov 18, 2013
[How do we plan to survive in the coming days (if help is not coming)?--- Augusto Corro, mayor, Daangbantayan, Cebu mayor]
We can imagine this: manok Bisaya, tinuwang.
We will put in lots of ginger, the native kind too
The kind that lived on the land, at the foot of the hill
Where once, Daangbantayan was free to dream.
It could become a meal of a lifetime, memorable
As memorable can be: the soup, warm and inviting
Gets into the guts, and there reminds us that life
Is worth living despite the need to coax the sea
To calm down, restrain its rage so we can swim
On its waters once more, and lie flat on our back
And count the stars in the early evening hours
Identify where hope is in the interstices of the dark
And where song is between the sparkle of light.
But let us go back to the promise of the chicken soup.
We can have the pepper leaves, green in their offering
Of life anew, something beyond the watery grave
That could not give us cleansing, not now, even
As we think of this meal that is about to come.
We put in some green papaya plucked from the fields
Of this place that once, once, there was feasting
For all the hungry, for all those who have come here
To live, love, and laugh, people from all over where
Dreams died, and the torrents took delight in the dark
Night, and where in the morning hours we will sing.
Hon, HI/
Nov 18, 2013
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