Santa Cruzan
Raechelle Yballe
The timelessly sweet fragrance
Of the carachuchi flowers
Invaded the air and my senses,
Overpowering the unbearable stench
Of the insalubrious market.
The procession trudged on.
Crowds lined the sides
Of a pebble-strewn dirt road,
Eager to catch a glimpse
Of this majestic pageantry.
The children -- clinging
To tattered and faded skirts
With vise-like grips -- hungrily
Looked on with awe and envy.
The salty breeze quietly greeted
This holy procession.
The gown of white silk softly swayed
With each tired step I took
Caressing my sun-burned skin.
Who was I to don this
Immaculate garb and walk beneath
A white-washed bamboo frame
Bejeweled with fragrant blossoms
Resembling Iris' arc en ciel?
The haphazardly fastened sash
Announced that I -- I was
Princessa sa Kaalam
Princess of Wisdom.
Yet I -- I was unworthy of this title
A child but eight
And Life's bitter Hardship
Had yet to teach me her lessons.
© Raechelle Yballe (1991) |