Editor’s Note: This piece is one of the works in a four-part series in line with the Dapitan 2022 theme Hintayan. All works are written by the Flame‘s Letters staffers.


With a snap of my fingers

and a flick of my hand,

my fingertips emulate the glaring sun,

as warm and ablaze. 


If I wish, they would spring up in rows,
bright yellow daffodils, red tulips

pink peruvian lilies, and white daisies;

they would shift directions at a glance,

the wind and tilt of the raindrops,

the sunbeams and tree branches,

the clouds and their shade below

as I recline on a water oak leaf,

at ease in the morning breeze.


Then out of the blue came vicious, 

thundering footfalls 

trampling on my charms and wishes,

as I run.


If I will it, they could cascade at once,

cloudburst from the darkest heavens

towards the intruders on their arrival,

but countless moons have passed since then.


The gnawing bitterness clings to my throat,

the days long gone linger in my mind while

the dreams of tomorrow continuously fade, 

as I hide in the depths of shadows,

waiting for a glimmer.


Because the years that dragged on

waned the flare from my weakening hands,

once well-versed. 


So if you catch sudden dwindling lights

as you hear a snap here and there,

it may be me, who waits and wonders

if I can hold them all again:

the liberty,

the bliss,

the magic,

as wisps of light flutter in my palms 

then slip away into nothing. F

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