REAL PAINS
i thought
i have no more appetite
to write
another poem tonight
i am watching news on TV
showing the horror pictures
of the recent calamity
brought by Yolanda
the bloating bodies of the
dead
scattered on the streets
of tacloban
fall short of the
wheelbarrows for
transport
no relief goods
are enough
water is still scarce
roads inaccessible
anarchy is
roving all around
the broken corners
of the city
to prevent the spread
of a disease
or any possible epidemic
the dead have
to be buried at once
no matter how shallow
the graves
sans the religious rites
en masse
seeing those skeleton houses
and the "zombies" walking the streets
as they are recently named
surely destroy our sense
of charm and
beauty
and with all unease can
even
dismantle our concepts of
humanity
we like to demand that
Life must be beautiful as
always
we like to believe that
those videos cannot be real
that this massive destruction
caused by nature
is a gross violation
of our taste for the
good life
but these are all real
we have heard their grief like
a surging river
seen them in the sizes and
shadows of mountains
we have felt their ocean cold sorrow
penetrating our bones
and sending the signals of excruciating pain
to the hollows of our
souls
i excuse myself from this
family dinner
i go outside the house
feel the coldest wind in
my nape
as though i have a ghost
for a lover
i look to the dark sky
and prepare my guts
for the needed
puke.
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