RED GLARE

(A poem written in tribute for Kian Delos Santos. A 17 year-old teenager who died without the rule of law.)

Red glare sheathed the room,

A bed that is now my loom,

Guarded with a mirror,

Blazes are walking too further.

Too small, too stiff,

Too close, too fit,

Too short, too sealed,

Too fit, to breathe.

I can’t fling a finger.

I can’t stir this shoulder.

All I know I closed the store,

Then my blood covered the floor.

All I know I’ll go to school,

Then the world became too cruel.

All I know I’ll meet my mom,

Then I never did until they come.

I feel the holes in my chest.

I want to clamor at my best.

Nobody hears.

Nobody sees.

People are weeping.

People are trembling.

A gun pointed on my faith

Heart and brain, halted and failed

I still want to feel the gusting air,

I still want to scrap my mom’s hair.

I am now a man lying in a box,

While I see my mom crying at its max.

But it’s too small, too stiff,

Too close, too fit,

Too short, too sealed,

Too fit, to breathe .

The last words I whispered in your heart mom,

Hope you’ll never forget.

Before my eyes sealed,

And breathe my very last.