by Remedios Dorio


I was born in a place,

Where one can see the sun rises,

How it reached the midden peak,

More or less the cycle of twelve hours,

Its dark one see the sun no more.


I spent my childhood,

Playing over grassy meadows,

Riding at the back of the carabao,

Climbing fruit trees at our yard,

With naughtiness that too of our neighbors.


Streaming waters of creeks and rivers,

Refreshed one from the heat of the sun,

Fishes, fries, crabs, frogs, iguanas, etc.

They all enjoy too the clear water,

So hummingbirds on trees along side.


I grew from foods,

Of vegetables harvested from our garden,

Of unfrozen fish and meat bought from the market,

Of ranged chickens we selves slaughtered,

Of canned foods from colonial heritage.


Coconut trees so many were just so common,

Juicy, sweet golden mangoes in the shape of the heart,

Guavas, guyabanos, santols, duhats, and more,

So abundant as like us they survived,

The many storms and earthquakes we have.


I’m talking about my country Philippines,

Where the island Negros I was born belong,

How its beauty and mesmerizing nature,

If was appreciated at that moment,

Really was taken for granted and ignored.


Because far over there,

Another had its strong allures,

Its beautiful white snow have attractions,

Its appealing glamours and luxuries,  

Magnetized one to take its living comfort.


But reaching it one had learned,

Beautiful white snow could frozen one to death,

Glamours and luxuries have its price,

For living comfort one must worked hard,

And suffer loneliness of individualism.