THE MOTHER was haunted,

by memories of her son:

camouflaged in green,

and stained by red—

nightmares that made her break

in cold sweat,

pray to all the saints

that the heavens protect her dearest

from the enemy’s bullets.


She relived the days when her soldier was but

a little boy who always cried in school.

“Mama!” he implored,

as he marched back home,

a school bag hanging from his shoulder

alongside young men in faded polo shirts and slacks.

Soon, his shoulder bore the weight

of a mud-splattered rifle,

and he marched with men in proud salute,

who returned without him

and offered nothing but a disc of smelted gold

to a mother unable to hear again

his last haunting words:

“I love you, Ma.”

'Pagbisita ng Santo Papa hindi dapat magarbo'


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.