EGO DE MONA KA TEUDO


The moon  is gone
I am wakeful, thinking
of the dried grass
in my brush.
The grass was black
in the moon's light
the moon was palest green
and somewhere in the tall cogon
a birdling sang uncertainly
the moon is gone.  I've
always lain alone
Why does it pain me now?


                                           - Ma. Lorena Barros
                                              Philippine Collegian
                                              July 3, 1969