Prose 5:37

there is a dimly lit parol glinting at the corner of the window

It was the middle of the week

the table is filled with imported grape wine and the body of Christ

In unison, a hundred voices echoed in the high-ceilinged hall

read Proverbs 22:9 and Matthew 19:21

rehearsed with no substance

words come out like practiced performance

the rich must help feed the mouths of the children of God

the teenage boy inside spoke to his seat-mate

the dimly lit parol glinting at the corner of the window moved slightly

a faint murmur of pleas has been drowned by the highest notes of the choir’s sopranos

the teenage girl holding nothing but 2 hand-made lanterns

chipped lips and dried mouth, “Lord, gutom na kaayo, sakit na kaayo ako baba.”

and, the smell of freshly baked bread hit her nostrils

it was time for the ceremony

While the tears hydrate her lips, the teenage boy inside refused the bread

“Sakit na kaayo ako baba sa ka daghan nakong gi kaon gabie”

hands trembling from starvation

The girl kneeled in front of the gates of the sanctuary

white tongue, tears petrified

It was a biblical story materialized in their eyes


God, where are your hands?

Am I not worthy of your omnipotence?

Does my voice lose value if I scream outside the gates?

Can you hear the guttural agony from my sore throat?

I am a worshiper, I have knelt for food, for water

I am a saint, I pray for rain, for bounty

I am alone, your voice I can hear from the harmonized voices of the quartet

God, can you make this lantern into bread?

So I can nourish my soul and worship you correctly

I cannot read the scriptures if my tears are dried from anointing my lips


the teenage boy laughed, clapping as if the teenage girl was a thespian

She swallowed her tears, awakened to a Sisyphean nightmare by the brutal applause, she brushed out her hair.

a child of torment will never be recognized in the margins

God will never be found in the faces of the people



Written by Samuel Harry Adlaon
Art by Ashlee Kim Galorio