Things I Keep

I kept it secret from my parents
that I dreamed of three black pigs slaughtered
along the mountain trails I was treading.

I kept it secret from my parents
that I did sangbo. We butchered
three chickens and did the id-idew.
We checked the bile and prayed
that whatever omen that comes is good.

My parents knew I missed two flights.
They clasped their Bible and prayed
for my safety to Jesus Christ.

I kept it secret from my parents
that I did the things they used to do then
before I travel to baba for competitions
- choose a good chicken, strike its wings,
legs, and head with a hard stick til’ it dies,
butcher it, check its bile, then pour its blood
together with tapey on the earth.

I kept these things from my parents.
Because since they accepted their savior
Jesus Christ, they kept a lot of things too.
Like the kuli underneath our lababo.
The earthen jar that used to contain fermenting rice
is now a secret hiding place of cockroaches.

- Dumay



I am Dumay from the Cordilleras (mountain) region of the Northern Philippines. 
I write poems everyday so I could survive, so I could tell myself that I am living.
I write about the Cordilleras and beyond. I was born and raised here and I have no problem in dying here. The mountains is my source of inspiration. She is my muse.

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