Resurrection

In the midst of tumbling drops

trampled by wheels upon puddles,

the sound of resurrection promised 

itself.

Motorcycles' side mirrors bathed

in mist, the starer almost crying, lined

the course home swiftly moving.

Twilight in might, vehicular lights

formed a globule: a tunnel's end

to all the deaths slipping by sight,

to all the perish melting in memory.

As the motorcycle cradled its passenger

towards the light at once confused

with concrete delusion, the whirring,

the blaring and the blasting

slowed the time down, fingers pointing

to light as if afar. Promises, meant

to lift a race, reduced to metaphors

for a bliss yet to come, to pour down.

Poem by: Aloy Polintan
Photo by: Joemill Veloso Flordelis

Image: Dumaguete City, Philippines