to the dancing faithfuls of san vicente

i do not really know what was it that made me cry.
I stopped somewhere in the middle of the crowd
who were dancing to the gong beats of
senyor san vicente in olingan.

how can a very disappointing life make you dance?

there were stories of course.

that woman cannot bear a child,
that man had three kids who died in a car accident.
the hunchback of this town has a wish.
the old lady has no place to live.
and so on and so forth

these are all people with lamentations.
i am only knowing things on the surface.
they never allow me to go deeper because if i have
to go deeper
they bleed some more and their drops of blood
become dry on the pavement
which not all can see

meanwhile senyor san vicente keeps spreading its
plaster of paris wings, white with its new paint.

the dances perhaps do not know the story
that he can be in many places at the same hour.

what they know is that this saint is miraculous.
something amazing will happen in their lives
after the saddest sound of their dance steps.

sonorous, monotonous, by analogy it could be like
a scream for help, for justice, for understanding of what
is happening to their lives.

and the eventual acceptance of their fates.

i do not know why i am crying. I really do not know why.