Fear swooped in
battered down hearts
and homes.
scythe winds harvested
our joy,
so little we have
yet so much we can give
bangon, tindog, kapatid
words for those who've lost them,
hands to deliver relief,
eyes to guide the weeping
see, we were made this way
the sky in our lungs
earth in our tongues
sun in our blood
metal in our spirits.
It is not a storm
that enters the area
of responsibility
but a convergence
of kindness, an awakening.
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