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If We Only Knew


My mother was born in the mountains of Bukidnon,

Where dreams and opportunities are hindered by the breathtaking mountain ranges.

Where the sun is a hope that rises late and sets early.

To her, the cold weather is discomforting, the wind is harsh, the crickets and the chirping birds are mocking her.

She would always wonder what could possibly be her life if she'd ever set her foot outside the vicinity of her little town.

She longed for a life that's colorful and bright as the city lights,

Where her eyes could see boundless horizons and her adventurous heart could feel the excitement of an "unpredictable" journey.


If she only knew how chaotic the city is, how noisy the world is,

How the colorful and bright city lights also symbolize the messed-up urban society.

And here I am, a city boy who grew up seeing only the staggering heights of concrete buildings,

Of displeasing horns of the jeepneys, of the unpleasant smell of
factories and gas emissions.

I grew up longing for a solemn place,

Where my heart could rest and stay unbothered by the deafening noise of the world.

I longed for the curvy patterns of mountain ranges, of fogs that hide me from judgment and insecurities.

To me, the cold weather is comforting my ever-running mind and ever-burning passion of unrealistic dreams,

The wind is pampering my tired soul, and the chirping birds sing me melodies of peace and serenity.


© 2021 Juan Marcus Puentas

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