Sing me to sleep,
for I couldn’t,
and don’t want to weep.
For my soul have fears,
put me in bed,
And “say never again, tears.”
For what you’ve seen,
Is an act of killing for greed,
Then they will say it’s not a sin.
Do you hear that sound?
it shrieks and it’s loud,
Telling me that you’re hell-bound.
Hundred years of captivity,
the audacity to own what is not theirs,
Does not follow earth’s synchronicity.
Our tomorrow is burning,
Ashes are flying and bodies are aching,
Do you know why my stomach is churning?
It is not the blood that keeps me awake,
but the crushing spirits,
that welcomes me to this land’s wake.
But please…
Listen to the sound it makes,
do nothing,
And It no longer wakes.
SINAG HIRAYA: Prosa At Tula 