The gods of fire and storms seem to call. Do you not hear that his end is near? The deep is swallowing up the light. Skies burn, winds drip emotions. But unlike Fishes, multitudes of clouds Dissipate like crowds, oceans darken with grief as sun seems dulled. Stars move with the procession Of boats with floating lamps. Fishermen’s vessels cross, slicing waves underneath, spraying salt water on eyes. Crisscrossing nets spread Like wings of dove. Overbearing waves heavy with boats answer call of coming School of fish.
Pained hands blister the night. With Eyes that flicker like lamps. They Be still and know of Sun’s promised light.
(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / June 25, 2009 - Alabang)
2nd Prize Winner - POETRY CATEGORY - Cesar S. Tiangco Literary Awards 2010