THE WOMAN IN THE ESTERO
Her fingers
craved. Trembling
for rice
inside the palayok.
Just one single meal
She thought
to survive,
Her shanty,
Squalid and dark
beside the estero.
Her only refuge
from stern eyes
and iron rods
The only thing
she can call
her own . . .
Till those men
in blue
crush her roof
forbid not,
her soul.
by: Elena Maria Mana-ay Parcon©2017
Date Written: April 19, 2014
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