Kell Futoll Poet Free verse

Riyadh is a Quiet Knife

The sun here burns without speaking.
In *Sta. Magdalena, even the wind gossips,
even the silence sits beside you
and calls you **"padaba."

But Riyadh?
Riyadh listens too much.
And when I speak,
my voice comes out wrapped in plastic.

I eat beside men with vanished names,
we all have families blurred behind remittance,
eyes trained not to blink at machines,
hearts trained not to shatter
at the sound of our children
saying “Papa” from a screen.

I have made peace with white tiles,
hallways scrubbed of joy.
The mosque’s call is the only breath
that cuts through this mechanical sleep.
I do not pray—
I bargain with God.
One more year, I say.
One more ***bago umuwi.

And in my bed,
I curl around the ghost of my own dialect.
I am learning to cry
without leaving a trace
on my pillow.


*Sta. Magdalena, Sorsogon, Philippines
**beloved
***before home,  finally.

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