Broken Hope

We've seen lakes together.
We've walked along seashores.
Together we gathered broken glass
sanded by the calm waves.

You poured me sake
everytime I wanted a drink.
From a distance I cared for your tired body
after a long day of driving.

Often I posed exaggerated gestures.
You laugh at me comfortably.
This was more than enough
to bridge the language barrier between us.

Each late night though,
I hear your voice lowered
while you talked over the phone.
I suppose you are someone else's.

Today I met her.
Her smile is painful for me to see.
My shoulders squared to greet her
as I forced a laugh down my throat.

I bowed my heads many times
towards both of you
while you stand a perfect match
in front of my shaky toes.

I travelled afar in your own country
and seen kindness in peoples' faces.
I console myself with this rare gift
as I watch both your hands wave me goodbye.

- 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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