POEM #10: OPeak

 

O Grandfather Mountain of the South,

how glad am I to sit again on your lap.

So many years have passed between us;

but you recognized me with a smile;

against the warm sun behind me.

The sweet smell of moist grass and earth

wafting thru my nose like a long-lost scent

of a forgotten love affair buried by time;

have made my meeting with you nostalgic

and condescendingly strong in spirit.

Standing above your crown, I am but a mite;

yet high enough to watch a Negros sunset.

Warm rays touched my face painting it red;

long shadows are cast creeping eastward.

It will be dark soon and I have to bivouac

on a piece of ground close to your heart.

I lay down and I hear you sigh and grumble.

What caused you grief, o dear Grandfather?

“Rubbish”, you say, “rubbish and broken glass";

"and people – indifferent and not of your kind”.

The Old Man softly whispered into my ears

the myriad stars strum their silence in the night

ensuring my wakefulness into a blissful rest

until dawn came along with the cold wind

startling me awake to a thick mist.

Time to walk again from you, o Grandfather;

I may have to go down Badian way

and send your wishes to Grandmother;

with whom I shall later meet in Matutinao.