Unwashed

Such memories don’t get washed out back to sea,
to be unseen, lost in the turmoil between
once a road and network or paths or labyrinth
but there is no power to lift up the darkness
from the heart or the dead, darkened by the sun
from a blue sky where once a wind howled
with belligerence, road rage, red-faced, pummeling
but of course, there is no remorse
for a hit-and-run victim, bloodied and abandoned
on the beach like pebbles, shells, white sand,
overran by waters, moving to and fro.

(Written with the super-typhoon Yolanda victims in mind.)

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avatar About Joel Josol

I work for Hewlett-Packard Philippines as a technical marketing person but I have been writing poetry seriously to drive this art in the last six years after writing for years for cathartic, selfish purposes :-)

I am also a father, a husband and a preacher.


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