by Erlie Lopez
Yellow is the color of sorrow:
the ribbons tied around trees,
the shirts and pins from seasons
of arduous street protests.
Yellow is the color of love:
lovely flowers around the urn,
the flame that glows
in paeans and songs.
Yellow is the color of hope:
tomorrow’s sunshine rays
after the day’s unexpected storm
is calmed by many a prayer.
Yellow when it mellows
till no longer needing to be
Is when we can wave to the world
noble dreams fulfilled.
A nation worth dying,
living, and fighting for
a precious thought for keeping
till no more days to mourn.
#2. Witching Hour
The tears are not merely for the ashes in the urn
secured among spring flowers and streaming thanks.
We weep too for the coven of witches
prancing around voodoo embers.
I hear them in the hiss of the wind on funeral rain
shrill and slithering as they jeer at pain.
In the dead of the night I’ve often wondered
on that unebbing thunder in their breasts.
They are kin dragons spewing fire
out to burn crisp a gentle prey.
What has happened to them from caves emerging
faces defaced by rage, eyes from darkness squinting.
Who, what did this making the heart a mere bone
as they sing and cheer one just gone.
A glimpse of their soul black and doomed
future ashes un-mourned.
Witches of the hour may the curse end
and to a place of light and love they return.
About the Poet:
Erlie Lopez is a Filipina retired from the frenetic world of Public Relations and Advertising in Metro Manila. She was, in the last 18 years, head of a PR agency she co-founded. In her independent and sedate world now, she mostly reads, writes, stays socially connected, soaks in Nature, and develops new interests and skills adapting to the pandemic mode of life. She has also returned to a first love – poetry – which keeps her heart open to the grace and rhythm of the universe.