Yellow Paper

Every family has a story, Then this was mine,with my grand mom Nineteen Eighty Six,I hold her Hand I hold a polar ice drop on the other one. I'm just a boy- A yellow strings flew downward They tied in every trees We just walked on the picket line of this Tired democracy, warring for freedom I smelled her, my grandmother Her strong sweet odor of old age As we adrift on angry protester. She wore those skirt of the 70's Big flowers imprint on modesty That brought me on sadness Every time I remembered Our slippers worn, soaked the dust Our tired feet was blacken in dirt. We laughed every time the crowd laughed As they understood The satire of young activist Who hold a squawking megaphone "Enough is Enough!", he insist. The sun was fierce The wind dry in a yellow sky Yet our fist in unison, hammered the space above our head Dances like a thousands butterfly. "Go down now!Go down now!",I said innocently as a child. "Go down!Go down!",we've shouted. I don't understand what's going on around People who are tired are now faced these battlefield. Then there's coup d'etat, Silent news in the capital Rumored that he will step down 'Si Apo ay ibagsak' 'Patalsikin si Apo' Hundreds are already missing or are they dead? Young idealist, Painters and poets The whole country go out on the street Face the canyon and the barrel of guns From friend and foe they Put a garland instead at EDSA. People Power was the rock of democracy It sprout and everyone seek shelter on her shade Then Apo, flew toward the sky The old man who once good and great He'd died without seeing his native land Still we are mad, and for what for Can't we forgive and forget? Offered our love instead of hatred I'm in my 30's now yet I still We still, (my grand mom and I ) Holding each other Praying for hope and deliverance.