So many times you must have died
Burying the mummies in the house of the pharaohs.
Vultures, avengers of false prophets,
Spray their noxious stench.
When the high priest burns oblation to the sun,
His orisons dash against the walls.
Unmoved and bleeding you refuse to come down,
You let the worms crawl below the ground.
Some dead chatter in their sleep;
So you must have listened, too.
From Glass of Liquid Truths (Makati: 1974; Iloilo: 1979; New York: 2013)