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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() for the Philippines Mother lies awake in the shallows, hair of sea foam whispering around her limbs of islands and thinning streams. The coasts of her figure grow a glut of green on every mountainside, out of sight from the capital buried in her left lung; entombed in the tessellation of her highway skeleton. She is withering slowly, like
Palawan blossoms eclipsed in the flood. It is hard to imagine her furled upon herself, so we rest easy pretending she is not. The sun tramples the equator. We live bowed to the crucifix and her skin- folding heat with a maid who puts a stranger to bed. Wakes up to make breakfast, backlit by a vacancy, black wisps matted in beads of salt -water on her face. She sings the lullabies with her eyes held shut; locks herself in a coolness that is stinging in the name of acquiescence. In the name of hope, murderers are just martyrs mired in politics. Man of his word, Rody swore, and for once, he did not lie. He starts the game tossing bullets like dice. Pushes someone out of a helicopter. Massacres the city next door. When the dice rolls to a stop, has the storm showered your morning glories or left a chasm through the roof? Are you the one at the red light or the child at the window, holding up the petaled garland, begging for a coin and barefoot on the highway. His hands are too dirty to take something from; yours are bloodier than you can bear. It has grown too cold for bare skin, so you roll down the window when the light blips to green. With hot air blowing wasps off the roof, we pry Mother open searching for warmth to find her clogged with our gluttony. There is ice afloat in her belly from drinks at hotel pools, highrise windows in view of pus rolling down the dome of sunset bleeding yellow. Now that she is open, we bring her down like a tapestry tearing and mangled. We step on someone’s back to swoon over seascape moving in past the city smog. You and I too busy blowing bubbles in the flooded pool to wonder if they can swim. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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