Nothing is hidden
from my view
not the garbage
on the side
of the road,
not the smiles
of a daughter
asking, "Dito na
ba?"* of
her mother,
not the mud
and the puddles
collecting on the
pedestrian
lane,
or the deafening
sound of buses
and eternally
honking
jeepneys,
not the
speed and
efficiency
of first world
travel
or the quiet
walk
home,
from the station,
our hands
linked,
a bag of candy
in my purse
for our
son.
(Sept. 13, 2009)
*English translation: Is it here?
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