O wind, tell the tale of a young boy from Lamud*

That day on the hill sunlight leapt and laughter rolled –
a fate pregnant with a tongue tingling to be born;
O wind, tell the tale of a young boy from Lamud.

A crumpled leaf on a wild vine glinted like gold,
inside, a spider still refused to greet the morn;
that day on the hill sunlight leapt and laughter rolled.

Tender fingers tiptoed on the vine to the fold
where the spider lay asleep – dreaming or wayworn?
O wind, tell the tale of a young boy from Lamud.

Suddenly, something whizzed and the grassblades trembled,
the earth – pummeled by combat boots – echoed a groan;
that day on the hill sunlight leapt and laughter rolled.

Blots of blood clung upon the silky silver web,
the threads sagged heavy with a dragging breath, forlorn;
O wind, tell the tale of a young boy from Lamud.

Can a concrete cross lighten the loss, bear the load
weighing down the mother’s heart left to wrath and mourn?
That day on the hill sunlight leapt and laughter rolled,
O wind, tell the tale of a young boy from Lamud.

*Lamud – a barangay in South Upi, Maguindanao, Philippines.

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