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For M. P.
we have so many things in common
our brown color for instance
our sunken eyes
bodies deformed with so much
pressure
hands that no longer tremble
because time made the fingers
steel
we are deprived of the crown due
to our
severed heads
they toast for their success
in defrauding us of our
honors
soon, soon, we have waited long enough
the mountains flatten
the sea shall bloat
soon, soon, our names shall no longer be carved
in sand
soon, soon, we shall become a constellation that marks
the paths of heaven
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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