Memories of One's Stay At a Children's Home

We were just children of different ages, From varied places brought on different days By the police to that one children’s home. At first, we did not know each other’s name, But we soon developed a bond that was Peculiar to people in the same plight. We were victims of abuse and neglect In our own homes by family and kin, So we chose to run and live on the streets. We rummaged through garbage for scraps to sell, At night, in parks or in pavements, we slept ‘Til the police took us in their mobile. There were babies, too, who had been disclaimed In hospitals just after they were born, By their own mothers--too young or poor, Or afraid of responsibility. They occupied one of the building’s wings: When one cried, the others joined in sympathy. We were fed, clothed, and we had warm beds; We helped Nanay* cook and prepare our meals Tatay* cleaned the halls and kept the garden. The other staff were very good to us. Thus, in that place, though momentarily, We had a semblance of a family. Sometimes a new child was brought in--frightened, And shy, till he warmed to our company. The saddest part was when one had to go-- Released due to overage, or finally Found by relations, or for adoption. These goodbyes always brought tears to our eyes. It was in that children’s home where I learned Many things about love, loss, life, and pain, And why it was that the world wasn’t fair, And why there were those who still remained kind. I found solace in people I barely knew And real friendship in an unlikely place. I can’t help but wonder where they are now; It’s been one score and ten since my release. Some names and faces I can still recall But some have faded with the years that passed. All I can do is wish them well and pray, Like Tiny Tim, “God bless us, everyone!” *Nanay is a Filipino term for Mother; the male counterpart is Tatay. April 10, 2023 Lower Fairview, Baguio City