Poetry by | January 1, 2024

The sun paints the sky vermillion

like a ball of fire. What a kingdom

of hefty trunks and waters rippling

with every stroke of limbs. To whom

do I owe the pleasure of this escapism,

rank of moisture and earth? Scorched

by mountain heat, bathed in the cold.

What a long haul, this sky-high dream,

this hustling body, the ache within the

flesh breaking my soul in two, from the

morning till midnight. I am resurrected

out of dust and dirt, soft and fresh, like

the beating of a newborn’s heart. I am

free like footsteps on the loose. Like a

lake that can thrive endlessly, overflow,

or replenish. Should I live from now on,

aiming to top greater heights in my life?

Maybelline Bedolido is from Mati City, Davao Oriental. She studies BA English (Creative Writing) at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

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