Banao Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

I had been coming here
In the summers of my childhood
The birds were perched high up the trees
straddling thin twigs
making sounds like the chime of bells
on a warm, indolent afternoon
The wild berries felt smooth
between my thumb and forefinger
tasting much sweeter in my tongue
than the expectant imagination

The tall trees were happy hosts
to lichens and rice orchids
beyond the avaricious reach
of the long arm of commerce
The pelting summer rain,
said the old woman by the roadside,
always brought new life to the ferns

I am here again
But this is not where I had been before
The pointers to the clear beauty of the sky
were claimed by chainsaws
that would not stop working
leaving behind rotting stomps
The bird’s songs lost melody
as a footnote to the tragedy
delivered by greed
The orchids have gone to the laboratories
and now painted with colors
outside of their genetic history
The blue berries are now a legend in folk tales

Alas, I stand here with happy memories
this violated place sadly cannot affirm.