To The Missing Bell Of Dapitan

to reclaim what was once yours
lame, your crutch is the silence of
this night,
the conscience balm is what
is right

soon you will hear the most sorrowful
sound of the church bell in

stolen from the masses
taken to the U.S.

The prayers of the natives are
mountains and rivers seeking the ocean
of revenge

soon you will find yourself alone in the park
still walking in the rain

this is the time of drought
the grasses are dying


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