By Justine C. Tajonera
The heat has stolen my words.
At noon, the air is still and humid and presses
against me as I leave the building. I shield myself with
an umbrella but my head has already started to pound.
Last Tuesday I heard in the news that the temperature
in Quezon City was the same as a slight fever.
Last summer was the hottest on record.
It may just be eclipsed.
I try to remember days as hot as these. I cannot.
Another thirty days like this is unbearable.
In the poles, I imagine ice shelves sliding into the sea.
I can almost see the arms of coral reefs bleaching
in agony. I have something to do with this
that cannot be undone. Forgiveness will not soothe
the earth, the air, the oceans. But it is forgiveness
that I ask for in this enveloping, inescapable
hell of heat.