Children Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Isn’ t the greatest life to follow, children’s?
They who fear only what they don’ t see,
and everything, yes, everything is holy.
What is order to them but the unnatural
intention of afternoons to put them to sleep
and divorce them from their play.
They with the courage to fly without proving
the reality of their wings.
And after the rains, how many ships have they sailed
to the infinite, to harvest the grains of time
and stopping it in pickle jars.
Their nations depend on the trees
and on how much shade they can give.
Their wars are deathless
against the Night
and the monsters it breeds beneath the bed
The thunders, that loosen the shadows to the world
against the oppressive bars of rain
against our wills, our reasons, our alien size
They experience their God’s close
intimate as their hands
dipped on the waters of their body
And god themselves
for making the stones
speak, the dark bite
And the stars, how correct they name
the stars! Either the streetlights of heaven
or the footprints of clouds.