Lola Lucing

Photo courtesy: Hannah Ballesteros

lola served on familiar ground,
mama says i could not do it

repented and cried out to God
desperate for a body that could release lola of her burden

recognition of this, once ever familiar
i beg to touch its fruit
forest
to see emerald green
forest
amidst the gray painted behind the mountains
7000 miles, seems a daunting task, yet
with every stride i feel the hands of those before
guide the sails, tame the seas, calm the air,
ask the storm to wait

i’ll find lola again

knowing my history and their grasp on my country
my blood rises — and I yell

thousands of years, they stained our clothes red
and thousands more, take up the kalis, iták, bunéng, binangon, parang again and again

weaving underneath the soil; her and others before
they are the root of the trees

in every breath, in every strike, in every stride, in every run in every beat, in every wound, in every scar, in every —

the mountains, among them
i will find her again

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