In the worst of times, martyrs will march barefooted into foreign lands
To toil its earth with flesh and sweat and blood
They jaunt north to south searching for milk and honey
and gold coins to put in their empty pockets
They stop to find out that they cannot walk barefooted
For the road is nothing but thorns and hot sand that scorch the feet
The merciless air is aloof and condescending
These people, they suffered
for their skin cracks in the winter and burns in the rain
Their tongue aches from speaking a different language:
voices turned into an unfathomable cadence
Frail skin torched like a hot tar to tissue paper
leaving only blackened soot
They come home with a dry mouth and scarred heart
These heroes will look up above into the cold night sky
to look for inkling of stars that guided them
For there is nothing sweeter than to bring food back home
To where hungry mouths and empty hands suffer in pain
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
In the worst of times, martyrs will march barefooted into foreign lands
To toil its earth with flesh and sweat and blood
They jaunt north to south searching for milk and honey
and gold coins to put in their empty pockets
They stop to find out that they cannot walk barefooted
For the road is nothing but thorns and hot sand that scorch the feet
The merciless air is aloof and condescending
These people, they suffered
for their skin cracks in the winter and burns in the rain
Their tongue aches from speaking a different language:
voices turned into an unfathomable cadence
Frail skin torched like a hot tar to tissue paper
leaving only blackened soot
They come home with a dry mouth and scarred heart
These heroes will look up above into the cold night sky
to look for inkling of stars that guided them
For there is nothing sweeter than to bring food back home
To where hungry mouths and empty hands suffer in pain
dedicated to all overseas Filipino workers