eyes drooped, all drowsy
she trudges on the street
with single stemmed roses
tucked in her little palms
forget the stench reeking
from the creek on her side
forget the mud smeared
on her ragged slippers
she keeps the roses
shielded in her chest
as she tries to count
the church pinnacles
on Sundays,
she’d sell Sampaguita
but tonight, a Valentine’s night
she has roses to sell
as she was told
that women like roses
yet, she never liked it
nor any flower
devoid of roots
the bell finally struck
and she dashes to the gate
as though she was a child
fleeing to her mother’s bosom
her little body wades against
waves of people storming out
their noise faints
the cracks in her voice
as she recites her lines
bili na po kayo
Six more stems wilt in her grasp
six more steps from the road,
she pleads
longing for home
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Note: This poem is dedicated to the little girls, left alone and hungered on the streets, selling red roses on the night of Valentine’s a few years ago; may these words shed light to the irony and dismaying reality that is this life.
MESSYPENS 