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EUNICE BARBARA NOVIO

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 4/15/2016 |




I WAS NOT THERE
I was not there,
I am here
But I hear
Your wails,
The cries
The rushing
Of bare feet,
Thick skinned,
Cracked like
Their lands.
I was not there,
I am here
Looking as you fall
Down on hot earth
Blood pouring,
Tears running down
On your burnt faces.
I was not there
I am here
Yet I feel the
Tightness of
Your hold
Holding on to life
To survive,
To feel your land
Again ravaged
By drought.
I was not there
I am here
I cry with you
I feel your empty
Stomachs
Like the promises,
Empty,
Like the rice hull,
Empty.
I was not there
But I am with you
I write your hunger
Your anger,
And with the ink
I weave words of curse
And blessings to
Those who need them.





RICE NOT BULLETS
And the bullets hit them,
They, who feed the nation;
they who are now in need
to be fed with rice and symphaty
The blood will not be washed away
by rain or tears or flow of promises.
They are dead and among them
many will rise to bury the dead
but not their hatred.
The sun was red as it sunk
the land awash in blood
Our fists rising!






HAIKU
Hush now my dearest
Rice on our plates white as pearls
Blood sprinkled on.
#RiceNOTbullets


[EUNICE BARBARA NOVIO]

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