5 A.M. Port Of Pulawan Poem by RIC BASTASA

the port of pulawan
is insomniac,
it is the meaning of its name,
it does not sleep,
people here, even the children have
deep sunken eyes
like an old deep
well,

when you call a name,
it echoes deep down there and it comes back
to you after
a while, telling you

'there is no water here! '

when you arrive here,
you call a name, and it is the same answer,
like what their eyes
are saying,

in fact, shouting,
you hear it well,

a friend of yours with long hair
disembarked immediately

the sound of arrival faded with the smoke of the
ship,

he is met by your student who flunked the bar this year,
the first time that you notice
that this guy is limping,

she carried a bag full of clothes,
dirty ones from the hospital
her mother has cancer of the lymph nodes
and at terminal stage

she has her only daughter
who drops her samsung tablet on the floor of the boat
nothing is broken,

they invite you for a ride in their old
black car,
you shake your head, you want to wait
somebody is coming,


the one you doubt you love says that she is coming to fetch you.


you want to go back to your way.
The sun shines. The sea is very calm.

The children are now wearing their deep sunken eyes.
Deep dry wells,
running out of water.

Pretty much like
you.