SM OROBIA

MY LITTLE CITY

I wanted to climb the hill

and enjoy the sight of my little city

and the mountain that bears witness

to the growth and tribulation of

our proud people

the railways which used to bring

both young and old to the big city

remain rusty and idle

how proudly it snaked away like

steel serpent. Bearing fortunes

and misfortune to our little city

young people who made it great

and returned with laurel

while the fallen warriors

were borne on body bags

inside a casket

I saw the old schools which have

Transformed farm kids into men

Of all climes and seasons

Young women who went abroad

To save their families from starvation

Enduring loneliness and sacrificing

Their purity against bearded wolves

And jackals

My little struggling city

Yearns for old days

When its young were pure and simple,

undefiled by strange

culture and ways which forever

erased the simple innocence

of Maria Clara.

The girls returned with dyed hair,

Tattooed body and masked faces,

Their ways were vulgar

Now I pine for good old days.

As I gazed across the horizon, a soft

Hand touched my shoulder

Let's move on, she said

And we went down with

Hands holding each other tight.