HOW'S THE VIEW DOWN THERE?

By Den Mark Celemin

We are naked.
Down here are bunches of unclothed bodies,
Undressed by the iron rounded icon.
We dig to climb,
But only to bury our corpses.

Our eyes wide opened but still sightless.

We see reality but not the future,
And still blinded by the men in barong,
Fooled by their words.

The mud is all over the places,

Stuck in our feet,
Obstruct us from sloping upward.

Down here is the uncovered reality,

But unseen from above.

Is it that good to be up there?