How can I deny the womb of existence?
No matter how far I am, the string attached
to my navel is rooted in my past.
I pray and eat in a bigger chapel,
in a finer diner, still,
my gods are closer at home
my tongue,
flavored where I first belong,
where my syllables arise
where my beginning words emerge.
Though my arms long for somewhere,
in my hometown is where
my shoes surrender.
On wider roads, I face new places,
memorize new faces.
But my life, despite being
in a new light,
still responds to the fire in my heart.
The embers erupt.
Ross Charlotte Gersava is a graduate of BA English (Creative Writing) from the University of the Philippines Mindanao.