I.

In their bamboo huts, where bullets

Could trace them, they tried to hide

Behind their mothers’ bodies as if

They could be infants in wombs again.
Their mothers’ pleas the only shield,

“Tama na! Mga sibilyan lang mi!”

But foes remained unmindful—the ears

Did not hear what the hearts refused to see.
Like dominoes standing, the mothers fell.

Blood ran to the edges of bamboo floors

Before they even hit the ground.

The children were left alone standing. 
Datu Camsa sings their song in stillness,

They are now the birds of paradise,

Flying after their heads caught bullets

And their young hearts stopped to beat.
II.

Today they dance with Jamail. They swing

Their arms like leaves of banana trees

Of Tibungol swaying in the wind.

On the stage, they portray the birds
Of paradise, the children who were once

Like them but remained as children

Breathing now the quiet air of peace,

Behind them their watchful mothers,
Clasping hands with one another,

Remembering the previous nights –

The fumbling and the laughter

Shrill with surrender and innocence.
Papanok sa Surga still ring around

The hall. And in the huts left standing,

No traces nor shadows remain, only

The empty wind going and returning.