One December Night

a poem by Roger B Rueda

There are presents to wrap,
a Christmas pudding
to bake
and carol singers whose
strands of hair
whipped in the typhoon wind
at the door
under a sprig of mistletoe.
Flood flashes by.
Everyone comes
to find their mothers, fathers,
and children,
and in their dotage,
grandmothers and grandfathers;
too, their aunts and uncles -
wading across a floodwater
like plunging freaks
rising underneath,
to reach them.
But they've gone missing.
Some of them walk
into the fierce water
and drown themselves,
some clambering over huge trees
and got soaked in the deluge.
A living carabao floats
amongst the floating carcasses.
Dogs come swimming
with curious wonders.
A cat swims frantic
by the floating ducks.
The whole city is strewed
with abandoned cars, jeepneys,
fridges, televisions, ovens,
chairs, houses, stalls, carts,
laptops, logs, corpses,
lanterns, Christmas trees -.
As if by magic,
they've become
refugees or exiles
fleeing wearing
tattered clothes
splashed with mud
as it gets light.
Grief perches on their faces
as coffins, a gift from Pampanga,
are being unloaded
from lorries got struck
in the sludge.They
taking a sip of Lucky Me soup
thoughfully,
a sight of colourful
umbrellas fording the water
from afar as if splashing about
sounds as their hope.
Later, on GMA,
packs in Christmas wrappings
and baskets filled
with a miscellany
of things shipped free by LBC
are handed to them
as they are very near to tears.