A poem about water would tell of
shallow ponds, silent lakes flooded with
rain from rivers. I will tell you about
the stream flowing the wrong way, the brook
babbling up the wrong hill. Perhaps the
wave cresting on the shoreline, dying
far out at sea. The roaring waterfall of
rising water, its plunge pool a shallow puddle.
They will never tell you what they long for,
the reasons why they rebel: the stream is driven by
an undercurrent of disbelief. It curses its mother,
blames its doubt on the kind mountain spring.
The brook, tactless in its climb, remains
ignorant. Its arrogance is the dam that swells
hubris. It sees its shallow sediment from
the height of roaring floodwater. The wave is
discontent. It hurries from dull sand grains for
greed, searching for gold in the wrong sea.
The waterfall, a water rise. It aims high while
wishful. Always unsatisfied, losing itself in
the heights it aspires to. These waters have
Forgotten to remember. Will you?
Jerson Randell Francisco is a Grade 12 HUMSS student at Davao Christian High School V. Mapa Campus, Davao City.