I hold them in open palms
Clipped with my thumb
I cradle them, as one cradles something sacred
I watch as they burn a fire short-lived
I watch them
Glow, ghostly in this heavy darkness
Bringing silence to those who gaze
They leave white smoke trails
Trailing off to unknown planes
Carrying with them prayers I have not uttered
As they strip their way down
They leave ashes in their wake
Filling the air with sweet pungent fragrance
Enough to wake the dead
—-
Fritz Gerald M. Melodi finished BA Psychology from Ateneo de Davao University.