We Have Not Fallen At All Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

(In memory of the victims of extrajudicial killings)

We are as leaves that have fallen
from puny twigs on a blustery day
Soon verdant leaves will bud
from the trunks of the hoary tree.
Such is how death becomes life.

Our blood streamed through vile holes
created by shells, into empty cups
of our weary comrades who drank as
thirsty athletes on a hot summer day
now eyes slanted towards the finish.

Our flesh putrefied into fecund ashes,
amalgamated with the parched earth.
A new plant eager for life will burgeon,
a moribund tree will be rejuvenated
on that spot nourished by our dust.

Our memory will suckle those who
will be born from our senseless death.

We have fallen but they will rise.
Then we have not fallen at all.