Tangled electric cables are always part of the sky?s scenes.
The day looks owned by many and conquered by some, maya claws holding onto
thin lines. Whether the clouds finally share its load to the ground
or the sun thinks it is the only star, everyone is always under the weather.
You remember one rainy Talamban morning and feathers clinging
on wings made for false progress and resilience, silent flight above heights.
You remember that late afternoon you called your apartment home
because the loved closed its door for you. With tree-barren mountains and more
construction here and there, you ask if you are building a life. No cloud is drying,
no soil is not harsh. Living means remembering breathing spaces
in which no one but you crashes to make a point.

Then the city presents itself on a star-filled night
devoid of the color black yet not of the dark
unfolding its never-enough narrow roads
with your story to tell, unsettled dust just around
and the dead-end street?happiness.

By Andrea Lim

Andrea D. Lim is from General Santos City and is currently working as an editor for a publishing company in Cebu City while finishing her master?s degree in literature at the University of San Carlos. She is the editor and co-author of The Story of Lapu-Lapu City: From Island Lookout to Gateway of a Region (Soline Publishing, 2018) and the editor of Tito Cuevas in Bold Strokes (Soline Publishing, 2018). She is also a former editor-in-chief of the Weekly Sillimanian, the official student publication of Silliman University in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental. Her poems are published in literary journals such as Cotabato Literary Journal in which she is currently an editor for poetry and Dagmay.

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