A Night in Total Blackout by MaxDomRenOro, literature
Literature
A Night in Total Blackout
With minimal lights, I gaze at the horizon. Right in front of me Comes a sleeping neighbourhood, All of the outside lights off. Lonely atmosphere Surrounding my neighbourhood… No active power, Plunging into the darkness, Without electricity. As I sit and write With my pencil and notebook Under the moonlight, I view the dark horizon, A sleeping environment. Peeps from the distance Having fun while camping out… A view at the sea, A ship with the streaming lights… Some standby business right there. A damaged tower Still doing operation. Communications Are still under repair now After the cyclone’s assault. Comms gone haywire… Difficult to connect here. The lines are damaged… Fallen line poles everywhere… Broken, halved by the storm strike. My land in darkness With barely any light source. Sitting and writing With only the white moonlight, Candlelights, and flashing lights. The moon and the clouds, Always meeting and clashing. Calm after the storm, With the shining stars up there In
“Bato balani sa gugma…” Such familiar tunes I hear Every first month of the year. These kinds of vibes and more… The “Pit Senyor!” chants out there In celebration of my hometown’s festivity. Looking back on these past few days, The road to recovery is still long… More issues to address, more heaps to pick up. The breeze sweeps across my face As I listen to the tunes of a fiesta, Singing on occasion, when I feel like it. Ah, Santo Niño de Cebu, the child Jesus… Novena prayers in place in His commemoration, Songs of praises played out in His honour. This month, it feels so cold, so silent. No festival dances as were the custom, Simply subtle celebrations in churches. Well, we’re still recovering from the storm, Still picking up the pieces left behind… No room, no motivation, no time. Hot days, cold nights—the feels. An atmosphere of quiet, so calm… So surreal, yet so unusual here. What was supposed to be a weekend Of celebration and of festivities Turned into matters of silence
The breeze blows onto my face again As I sit down and write this all out. The youth playing around—flying kites, riding bikes… Such a soothing sight, relaxing my nerves. The sun is setting, the neighbours are outgoing, Reeling in the last moments of daylight. Sounds of chatter, broomsticks, machines… Flooding the neighbourhood with life once again. Tunes of various kinds of music from afar, Some karaoke played along, some party! No more madness for the meantime here… Restoration efforts finally bearing fruit. No more buzzes or choruses of generators; Just my fellowmen walking around and chilling. Biking—bells played, pedals pushed… Sweet thrill of exercise and travel in one go. Black birds standing on a pole wire, secured, Wandering about without a care in the world. Doesn’t it feel great to see a spectacle like this, Back to life before the shock of Rai, Odette?
Kiddos in the Grasslands by MaxDomRenOro, literature
Literature
Kiddos in the Grasslands
A long day, cool breeze The view of the outside world. It’s lively, so fresh… The noise of joyful chatter Rings my ears with refreshment. Sight from the distance, The youngsters play around here. Such simplicity; The sports of everyday life… Not too extreme; just chilling. The peeps having fun Playing and running around. Most of them young kids Playing ball and chasing games; Some of them just sitting down. Life of the chatter, The spirit of sweet contact. It feels refreshing To see kiddos play freely, Relaxing and bonding here. Sunny with a breeze… Kites flown, gatherings active. I smile at the sight… Feels great to witness grasslands Filled with joyful energy. Grassland animals Hanging around, taking walks. Active sign of life When children wander around, Playing and doing their thing. Here’s the flight of kites Across the sky, gliding heights. And the games they play… Volleyball, patintero, And batuhan ng bola. Laro ng lahi… Cebuano youth delight. All traditional Is the fun
Sight from a distance As early as the evening Comes the blobs of light. Seen all around me, Resurgence of energy… Coming full circle. Blobs of village lights, Combined with the city lights… It’s a slow return. Yes, lights have returned, Accompanied by the sounds Of changing music. This month’s church music… It’s still lingering after Sinulog parties. The neighbourhood lights… All good, coming back alive; Power has returned. No more nuisances… Absence of generators, No more choruses. Hopeful me, lights up! Visayas and Mindanao… Slow rising, lights up!
I. Fumes of cries and pleas… Humanity is shaken, Under the rubble. II. Metal, props, trees, glass… All scattered about, breaking Under the cyclone. III. The warning systems… Signals go out here and there, Arrival ahead. IV. Power interrupts… Comms and receptions cut off, Tampered by the storm. V. War has just begun. Windows, roofs, doors, props, metals Versus sustained winds. VI. Glass-breaking crashes, Uprooted trees, displacement… The storm is winning. VII. Brace for sustained winds… I fear that I may get hit. Need be vigilant! VIII. Debris gatecrashing, Such power overwhelming… All in disarray. IX. Feels like the earth moves, Shaken by the warning storm… Such calamity! X. The velocity… A Christmas catastrophe, Bitter parting gift. XI. Death tolls, damages… Amassing the funds too grand, Humanity’s cries. XII. Names too dangerous, Trauma takes residence here… Those two names—no more!
On a Clear, Starry Night by MaxDomRenOro, literature
Literature
On a Clear, Starry Night
I. Calm after the storm… When the clouds have stopped crying, A clear night, peaceful. II. Dots of sparkling lights Filling clear skies around me, Jamming with the moon. III. The graceful moonlight… A hint of serenity After the typhoon. IV. Typhoon Rai, Odette… It has come and passed us by… Sleeping neighbourhood. V. A night of no air… Just a shining light above, Illumination. VI. On the street that sleeps, Bathed in starlight and moonlight… It’s oddly peaceful. VII. Only natural… Illumination above, The street soaked in it. VIII. Calls from outer space… Gracing this fallen wasteland With some hope to live. IX. It looks peaceful here. The moon and the stars light up The vast, clear, black skies. X. Under these streamlights Inside homes, the outside is Bathed in the space lights. XI. The night is passing… Yet, the moon and the stars reign, Watching people sleep. XII. Camping on this night, I just love to enjoy this Moment with space lights.
On the fourth month, four days before the next,
One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six…
It is right beyond the peaks of night.
Just one pogrom, a secret battle to conquer
While the rest of the city sleeps…
It is a matter of life and death.
Generators humming, cadets mobilising…
Power it up, power it down!
What more can be done, then?
Alas, the streams of heat passing out
Through the vents of the building blocks,
Absolutely gasping for help, crying incessantly.
Oh, the long held tears of the blocks…
Finally flowing freely in a blast,
Disorienting everything around them.
The night speaks of no mercy.
To its world