i feel quite uncomfortable
to the old women in this barangay
on a mumbo-jumbo of memorized prayers
like a playing tape recorder of those old times
reading a novernario
from page one to twenty.
after then they walk their way back home
from church
talking about other people's lives
condemning, laughing,
and too judgmental
they're happy & contented and sure of their own rooms reserved for them
in heaven.
i envy their own certainties.
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