Father To His Son.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

today i prefer to write
back, into father's invitation
a long time ago where for days
we have to ride on horses passing
by the forest of Antulanga

as he was tall and i was behind
him with the horse he would pick
berries for lunch saving on rice and
dried fish and potable water

at night the moon was a bright as
the glass which he tucked along for
the natives, to see their innocent
faces and then give up their lands
for us to plant and then they leave

now the fruits of the conflicts have
bloomed and i with all honesty claim
that there was nothing wrong with what
he did. The great grandchildren of the
natives are schooled and they think they
know now what wrong was done and that
they must kill all those memories to get
back their land.

i am inside this room, and trying to write
what history was all about. It is and will
always be about a father to his son.