top of page

consciousness rooting in the heart of autumn



I come from across this ocean, countrysides of Iloilo, mango trees, swimming in rivers I come from Inés, a mananabang who birthed hundreds of babies I come from sweat and humidity, and hot late nights I come from the womb of Hopelina, who birthed my mom Gloria, a premature baby I come from war torn lands I come from survival I come from the Bisayas, Ilokano and languages I don't understand I come from the outskirts of Manila, tall grasses and handmade kites, brown skin cousins, countless titas and titos, aggressive grandmas and kind grandpas I come from a small town in a valley surrounded by lettuce and strawberry fields I come from hands digging in dirt and harvest

from onions, to berries, to asparagus I come from loud sisters climbing over each other and choreographed dances in garages, loud parties and falling asleep to mahjong tiles, yelling ninangs, singing, and laughter





Comments


recent posts
explore
bottom of page