drift – A Poem

Written by Mattie Balagat

How did I get here? 

On bare feet sore red from habit,

quick steps ahead of winter’s hold.

Stubbornness scalds and yet

I cling, tightly

bound to written word

slick with tropical blood,

which will outlast any bone-chill,

which will keep me company

in transit. As when sound dissolves,

the landscape is mercilessly clear:

I am standing by the faith

of yesterday, softly golden in her fears;

I am where forward motioned,

and soon beckoned, and still

my prayers take shelter 

in the underbelly of waiting.

I’ve yet: sea, 

                     or space,

light, 

             or now.

here 

             is echoes 

of the sun’s 

rumbling abroad.