Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2014
(tales of my mamasita cont.)

lambayong grew wild on the roadside
a vine like any other
large hand sized leaves grew singly
never in bunches
although lush and green
it was taken for granted
lambayong lay largely left alone
ignored and all but forgotten

my friends and I jumped rope
on the street by the big house
there was always a noisy gaggle
of 4 or 5 jumpers
just out having fun
a long vine stripped of leaves and branches
made a great rope
one day a young passerby asked
if she could join us
we had never seen her before
but gladly let her jump in
for some reason she got mad at me
grabbed the vine, doubled it
and lashed me hard
she was about to hit me again
I reached out and caught the vine
wound it around my hand
and lashed back at her
she ran away sobbing and wailing
we never saw her again
and never found out who she was

during the Japanese occupation
not everyone evacuated like we did
a lovely family from Cebu stayed in town
one daughter was my fourth grade classmate
a beautiful mestiza with fair skin
and loose wavy hair
but we were never friends
just classmates
her family’s affluence was well known
father was a doctor and land owner
jealous lips whispered lies
“the family is supporting guerrillas”
denials fell on closed ears
perhaps willfully lost in translation
lack of evidence didn’t matter
there was an example to be made
brutality’s lesson to be taught
the entire family was beheaded
down to the four year old

Isabel was my best friend
we found each other before the war
I had many neighborhood friends
but Sabel was the only one welcome
to play in the big house
she had both parents
a big sister and brother
a younger brother
they lived in their own
nipa and bamboo house
stilted high from the ground
a beautiful girl with a dark complexion
long black ***** hair fell
in ringlets onto her forehead
we would bathe together
singing together in the bathroom
one kind uncle had his own wing
in the big house
he built me a sturdy swing for two
hung from the ceiling
big strong ropes held a wide wooden seat
Sabel and I would swing away together
sometimes upside down
like a couple of crazy monkeys
we would go up and down the stairs
arms over shoulders
forever singing songs
sometimes her family invited me to lunch
but she never had a meal with us
in the big house
her parents managed to support their family
mother provided laundry service
for the affluent in town
including my family
father traded goods
their life seemed happy and harmonious
after the war
my family returned to Carigara
don’t know what happened to them
I never saw Sabel again
but I never forgot her
©08/24/14
Written by
Del Maximo
852
   Emily Tyler
Please log in to view and add comments on poems