Thirld World Geography by Cerilo F.

Bautista
A country without miracles
Sits heavy on the map
Thinking of banana trees rotting
In the sunlight
The man who watches over it
Has commandeered all hopes
Placed them in a sack
And tied its loose ends
He goes around carrying it
On his back
And when asked what is inside
He say, Just a handful of feathers,
Just a handful of feathers.
Thats how light the burden of our
Government is in peace time
Any tyrant can turn it into a metaphor
You kneel on the parched earth
And pray for the rice. Only the wind
Hears your useless words.
The country without miracles
Tries to get up from the page
But the bold line and sharp colors, hold it down.