Those Feelings Poem by RIC BASTASA

i

the first exhilaration was when you were issued the visa.
in your mind is 'America! America! '
here i come, 'America! ' as though you are going to heaven.
the family butchers the 60-kilo pig and the whole village rejoice
over your success.

America is your gateway to what you perceive as an escape
from poverty. This country is a haven of corruption. This country
is not offering you opportunities to rise to a higher level of existence.
The politicians here are good for nothing but promises.
You keep telling yourself. Patriotism is gone.

ii

Then you are in America. You have your first taste of snow inside your room.
Outside it is cold, and you begin to say, this is not what i dream about.
You are one of the jobless. You only fill in for work. Those who promised to
help you avoid you. You have become another useless number in the world
of perceived opportunities.You lock yourself. Money is hard to find here too.
The parties are not helpful hints about your quest for survival.
You go unhealthily surfing in the internet. No one remembers you.
No one is giving you. Everyone is asking for the money that you promise
to send back home. Your mother is sick. Your father is a drunkard.
Your brother is a drug addict. Your sister is pregnant.

iii

Then you begin to feel so alone.
You begin to think about going home.
Back to your country.
It is what you miss. The simplicity of life there.
The sun. The rice field. The fishing on the surf.The picnic on the hills.
Under the mango tree. The bath in the river.
The Sunday gathering by the sea.
A game of chess with a friend at the plaza.
The Jaycee activities.
The novena of the Holy Rosary on Wednesdays.
Sunday church.
The loafing. The hammock tied between two coconut trees.
The song of the gentle waves. The coolness of the nipa hut.
The anchovies. Salted fish and raw mangoes.
Coconut vinegar and the raw fish. Chunks of tangigue.
The sweet smell of the pork adobo.
The humba. The rhumba and the tango and the boogie.

The humility of your people.
The carabao ride towards the mountain.
Your friendly tenants. The spring on top of Saluyong hills.
The tuba. Dakak beach and floating restos.

iv

the Dipolog airport is wide and long.
You hear the song of your going back home.
Soon. Soon.