By Kristian Sendon Cordero
Philippines
I. It was the ancient love for fire seared the hearts of the
first humans—In the middle of kindling they found
each other. Inside a cave was born
all sense of belonging. Outside, tiger and bull gave chase,
a python snapped up a mouse and butterflies were
starting to open their wings like flowers:
yellow, white, glistening black, beneath the graying sky.
II. The ancient love for fire was not a new religion brought to us by muscular foreigners. The sun has long been worshipped in the old realm— its heat suffused the breast: and the heart ripened. The seed in the seedling was buried to slumber under the fragrant earth, filling the world with the seven colors of the rainbow; words were silent cries, understood like water slaking a dry throat.
III. The ancient love for fire enters the consciousness, flesh to flesh, blood to blood. If all the light of the ancient fire fades and we are devoured by the harshest worries— Hush, for in the middle of the whole wide world someone will light a cigar and console himself, collecting all the memories, putting down the saddest lyrics of the people before the volcano exuding slow deliquescent fire from its full erect peak.
