#agapimou
The lumad in her doesn't go away,
The map's of time; written
Upon her face. O' the
Stories, of her kin dost speak; an empress
Of the Subanon, she is strong, I weak.
Tis she's sedulous, in her way's of hard
Work, knowledge do I gain, she guideth
Me in the rain; she dryeth mine tear's,
With her malong of royal worth.
Tis God's known her from her birth,
He picked her from the Mindanao Sea;
Verily, verily she's a sacred one,
Every breath she breathes is turquoise green.
And when she takes her daily breath,
Psalm's compose inside her chest, inside
Her chest where her heart doth beat;
Beat's of holiness, in whitened sheets.
Wild child of unknown path's, mine
Guide, mine friend, soulmate of the past;
Lover now, as wilt alway's be, do I learn,
So much I've yearned, from God's eastern breeze.
O' tis she's free, she's just like me,
As I am her; O' I am her; she call's
Me pookie, she's mine mi amour,
Mine Reyna, girl, Jehovah's daughter.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou)
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC