Seeing Flames by Yixuan Wu (17, Philippines)

At dusk on Manila Bay, I watched as the Sunlight 
dyed the canvas of the sky with its orange hues, 
just like how a bowl of spilled boiling Sotanghon 
Soup slowly fritters away. 

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The seawater ruptured against the shores of Pasay,
and then, gently sifts away through the rifts of the jagged     
sea rocks. Perhaps I thought, this is how generations
of people renew: new waves replacing the limp ones,  
like the passing on of the family Misua recipe. 

Then, the summer rain weaved down like threads, 
bluffing up the Manila night skylines and the single 
yacht hanging on the horizon. I know this was what 
Grandfather saw the night when he left his home 
country –  That night, he was on one of the ships 
webbing out into the South China Sea. The Port of
Xiamen swelled as echoes of gunshots from 
Northern China cleaved through the coagulated air.
Except that time, the skylines were flames of warfare 
burning on top of famine.