A Tragic End (For The Sendong Victims) Poem by Jane Quijano

The living breathes
The pungent odor of death.
He walks along the trail
Of the dead...

In her prime of life
She sings as a nightingale
Her last song
A loud cry!

In this world of the living
Time is like a bomb
That ticks... or like
A killer man-made dam!

Will man cease to exist
On a mountain without its mount,
The river without the bend
And the earth without the land?

Can we surpass the way
Of man's own folly?
Or is life but a Greek drama
Of a great tragedy?