Friday, June 11, 2010

Badjao Girls

Badjao Girls feets understand
the flows of jeepneys and buses
as they wrestle the wave of
aching hours,

rain or shine, \
lives in danger;
upon counting the days gone by..

To live...
To fit in...

Trying to put a fake smile to the homeland that never been a home...

As we all see,

Each day they work to the bones,
Collecting paining memories,
Holding their tears upon seeing
normal children in uniforms
And comfort themselves on flattened cartoon boxes under the bridges,
Along the highways with sacks of cements sewed together
To protect them as roofs and walls
Of what they called Home...

Where hearts' desires slowly dies
Their soring feet rape their fantasies
And to shut their eyes to the rythmic pain,

The uncurable pain,
Pasted on their lives as street children,

Ah! These torturing nights...
The pain I've seen...

When will it end?

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