LET THE WIND BLOW

Let the wind blow
Where it should
On the mountains and hills
Where once you have lived
To be with the people
You fought for.

Let the wind blow
Where it should
On the shadow
Of the perfect cone
Where you first saw
The light of day.

Let the wind blow
Where it should
In the island
Where once you lived
With the poor
And the unfortunate.

Let the wind
Be warm in your soul
After a good fight.

Let the wind
Bring back days
Of your youthful days
In Mt. Makiling
Or the ravines of Sierra Madre
To the deep mysterious mountain ranges
Of Mt. Silay where you breathed
Your last
On a bloody Friday morning.

You will find repose
On a Friday afternoon
On a date when your grandmother
Was born.

Let the wind blow
Where it should
In the realm of memory
Of your short but fulfilled life.

Let your son
Live your shortened life.

Let your father contemplate
The rest of his last season
Minus a rebel daughter.

Let the wind
Bring you back
To where you want
In the realm of silence
Full of remembrance
Of things past.


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