A Home-Coming To My Youth
I walk the same roads I trod at eighteen,
I stand on my hometown’s pavement again.
In life’s transits we’re merely passengers.
As I glance upon the streaming strangers,
I feel a certain familiarity
There’s strange kinship in the locality.
I take the same spot I took at sixteen,
I’m seated at the same station again.
I can’t move forward with my travels blind,
Flash backs of my past trips rush in my mind.
There are story-filled structures in the streets
We are commuters to life’s immense fleets.
I breath the same air I breathed at thirteen.
I’m home to the place of my youth again.
Before I left the Philippines last year, I did this. I went back to the home town of my youth. I’ve never been to Mambusao, Capiz before this since our family transferred to Roxas City a couple of years back. I did not really stayed long. I just took the public transport, walk the town, sit on places, observed and solemnly returned to memories.
Our hometowns are rich source of stories and inspirations, like a cradle, it keeps many things that conjure moments from childhood we would love to recall. Nobody noticed my coming and going. But I liked it that way, for I didn’t visit to talk to the present, I was there to reconnect with the past and I succeeded.
Child Once, Too
Let the child run free, uphills or down plains
Like a gazelle that gallops in prairies.
Let him swim in lakes, bathe in rains
And coquette like the mystical fairies.
Censor him not for he is free from stains
Trust not the filthy mind of the gentries.
Free the child from the restraining chains
And from the customs’ narrow bounderies.
Let him be for his generations’ gains ~
Allow the children to weave their stories.