Grandfather slept leaving in his wake
A family tree shaken and unsure.
Relations came, worried about money,
His wallet empty, exhausted for the poor.
Bankers staked a claim to Mampunay, leaving
The sugarcane fields bare
And Tinin-awan stripped to the last coffee tree.
The rice paddies lay parched in mud,
A playground for water buffalos,
That yielded no bountiful harvest
Unlike summers past when rice mills
Hummed with constant urgency
And the busy traffic of farm hands
Was deadened by the mindless prattle
Of supplicants and mendicants
Whispering their favors to Grandpa’s ears.
Grandfather slept leaving in his wake
A family tree shaken and unsure.
With only his children left of everything he held dear, 
Finding some so-called friends and neighbors
Was akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.
Those who did show up shed copious tears,
Their final nod to the old man
Now draped in the nation’s flag 
Whose concern for others was wide and deep.
Grandfather slept suffused with love and prayers.

From Glass of Liquid Truths (Makati: 1974; Iloilo: 1979; New York: 2013)

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