While passing at Capampangan longest bridge
heading to Tarlac
while crossing last frontier
dike
my mind is stepping down
rushing up to tragic lahar
delta point
staring at remnants of magmas
pasted into deserted ashes
where printed feet of rolling rains
framed well in dying rivulets
there trapped sticky ashes
360 degrees scoping
all venues as far as I can see
every space is a burried
civilization turns into a memorial
lot of white dusts
too early to be raptured by
quasi-dormant killer lava
burning old generaions
and cleansing old sins
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem