So you are already in Baguio City
I heard it is freezing cold there
Wise of you to leave Manila's fumes
And the stench of hopelessness here
I itch to start the ignition or grab a cab
To Cubao and hop on a Victory bus
You see, like you, I know so well
The smell of pine from the backyard
And the red poinsettias begging notice
Against the sunflowers in yellow bloom
I miss the strong aroma of pancakes
From my doting mother's kitchen
And the freshly brewed Kalinga coffee
From my father's aged copper kettle
I hear my mother telling me to call
My classmates to carol in our home
But that is a voice from decades ago
She lost it when Daddy was called away
I can't start the ignition; I can't take that cab
Mom took my Baguio to the Great Beyond
(I wrote this after I got a text message from former National Commission on Indigenous Peoples' Chairperson Eugenio Insigne -Mng Kenny to me and to family, or Eugene to his friends. He asked if I was in Baguio. He also said he wasn’t going up north from Manila. His mother died that year. Since then, things changed.)
