(Unchained Memories)
by rudy a arizala
15 december 2020
Loud thunder from the hills
Recalls to memory Tamala
When we, pareng Soty, Eddie Potes
And I went hunting for wild chickens
Ended up in hunting sweet pineapples
Donating our “baon”of rice and sardines
And “carne norte” to a young mother
Who just gave birth to a baby boy
On the hills of Tamala, the cries of newly-born
Become thunder, and the oil lamp light
Become lightnings in the dark skies
In exchange for our rice and canned goods
We have inside our canvass bag of “talupak”
Boiled “kamotes” and “saging saba”
Thus, we came down from the mountain
Without neither wild chickens nor “baboy-damo”
But half a dozen sweet pineapples from Tamala
And a poem written on a notebook from a hill store
As we trudge the narrow winding path of the hill
On arrival in town, partook of boiled “kamotes” and “saging
While sitting on the grassy ground of town school
Not under starry night but under spreading branches
Of century old acacia tree at the school ground
Singing “True, True Happiness” will follow
If only you would follow me, while she strumming
A ukulele until time for each one of us to go home sleepy
While the black Tamala at the foothills of Sierra Madre
Stand still under a moonless but starry night
Suddenly under the infinite meadows of heaven, night now silent
Was it my Dammerung or “Bukang-Liwayway”?
But I hear no answer for “Mister Sandman” had already came
Putting me to sound sleep on my soft comfortable bed.
