By Chito L. Aguilar

Here were rice fields fed by the rain
Caressed by sunshine, whose grains
Were so golden upon harvest time

Here were vegetable farms enriched
By volcanic soil, tended by families
With stalwart hands till harvest time

For generations, folks tilled this land
Near the foot of the volcano, source
Of their income every harvest time

Here was a long, mighty dike, like train
It held flowing waters from breaching
The fields to warrant each harvest time

Here was green lushness all-year around
With coconuts, bamboos, shrubs, trees
They chorus in melody every harvest time

Then, Rolly came swiftly . . .

Destroyed the dike with rampaging mud
Razed the fields with winds, silt and rocks
Ravished the land, folks and their houses

And then, no more harvest time.

Guinobatan, Albay
(San Francisco, Purok 7)
November 1, 2020

The author standing in a place ravaged by sand and volcanic debris in the aftermath of Typhoon Rolly.

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