In the time of Martial Law in the Philippines, the Governor of Metro Manila Imelda Marcos sought to “clean up” the metropolis, often through forced evictions of squatter areas. But there were other means also …
The kids flew their kites
– tattered, ragged, made of scraps –
on our street after their fire
Our street because theirs was no more
Their fire for it swallowed all they had of life then
Spewed up the charred remains of those shanty houses
ugly vomit of some obscene monster
that fed to surfeit on human misery and pain
Even the broken dreams struggling to survive
in the crowded alleys and byways of Tatalon
Make good stuff for burning
for the fire was swift and deadly
in the early hours of morn aided perhaps
by unseen hands
Minions of the fire-monster
and the firemen were slow in coming and
slow in moving
only saved some places as if by magic
standing now as islands of wealth
in a black sea of stunned anguish
They say the area is now marked and ready
for development
But the kids continue to fly their kites
– tattered, ragged, made of scraps –
In the streets, upon the hills, over the seas
Having endured the burning
Will create of their scraps a New World
Or the world will die
