Children

Children

need to see the Christ pained

on his death,

they need to see

pixilated, blurred scars on TV

turning into flesh cut out by lashes,

they need no guidance from adults,

they need to be left interpreting

a man whispering his moans

to his unseen father,

they need

to smell the blood dried on his nose

on his cheeks & eyelashes,

they need to hear the breath

last on his lungs as a spear soaked

in wine is struck on his rib,

they

need to look closely on the sun

interspersed on the crucifix

thus making out a silhouette

of a man - healer & teacher as

yearned by weeping bit players

- saving a world of dragged backs

equated with salvific yokes,

they

need to remind one and themselves

all they have seen on screen

as they throw pebbles on chalk lines

etched on sand, indeciphering yet,

impetuously loving yet.

Poem by: Aloy Polintan
Photo by: Joemill Veloso Flordelis

Image: Sunken Cemetery, Camiguin Island, Philippines

New Baptism

During the sun's scorching gaze

Is baptism renewed most fit

When, hands clasped on each other

(a gesture of obligatory devotion)

I will soak my heels up my nape

Drops almost touching my earlobes

Bubbles will form, burst, regenerate

Ripples rival among themselves

Placid waves caress my ligaments

As the high priest rinses the spirit

As I close my eyes for orange panorama

The gentle rush of water subsides

A stagnant pool quiets the crowd

And now the baptizer is out of sight

Only cobblestones cradle me in their arms

In the void of direction, of ritual

Poetry by: Aloy Polintan
Photo by: Joemill Veloso Flordelis

Image: Camiguin Island, Philippines

Camiguin: The Island Born of Fire

A magnetic, lonesome, smoking beauty sitting 10 kilometers off the coast of northern Mindanao; a peaceful quiet taking over the sleepy town drugged by crying crickets, chilling breeze, running streams, and lapping of the waves, only disturbed by infrequent motorellas and private cars passing by; and a surprise in itself, for hosting an unbelievable number of natural wonders spread across such a small, volcanic  land. That's how I could recall of lanzones-laden Camiguin, the island born of fire.

Camiguin is truly a destination with an abundance of tourist draws: the intimidating seven volcanoes, where some are visible from Balingoan port; waterfalls spearheaded by thundering, steep descent Katigbawasan; hot and cold springs flocked by families on picnic; the horseshoe-shaped sandbar called White Island, which demands its magnificence to be seen atop slippery Mount Hibok-hibok, an active volcano; the blazing sunset that sets as backdrop of the gigantic cross of sunken cemetery, which is pretty accessible for some daunting snorkeling; the ruins of old Catarman church; and the stations of the cross on towering Mount Vulcan.