Third World Geography,
by Cirilo 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 end.
He goes around carrying it
on his back.
When asked what is inside,
he says, Just a handful of
feathers,
just a handful of feathers.
Thats how light the burden
of government is in peace time
any tyrant can turn it into a
metaphor.
You kneel on the parched earth
and pray for rice. Only the wind
hears your useless words.
The country without miracles
tries to get up from the page,
but the bold ink and sharp colors
hold it down.
Third World Geography,
by Cirilo 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 end.
He goes around carrying it
on his back.
When asked what is inside,
he says, Just a handful of
feathers,
just a handful of feathers.
Thats how light the burden
of government is in peace time
any tyrant can turn it into a
metaphor.
You kneel on the parched earth
and pray for rice. Only the wind
hears your useless words.
The country without miracles
tries to get up from the page,
but the bold ink and sharp colors
hold it down.