Driving down the midnight road
hailed by a woman pale. Unwittingly
stopping by her and taking her with.
“Take me home,” she says—no,
pleads. Battered and bloody, tired
eyes from neglect and abuse,
she pleads for rest, for hope.
She had been taken advantage of,
and surrendered; but she still stands
strong. Buffeted by storms, she stands
tall. Taken ill and hardly attended to,
she soldiers on.
For help, where else can it be? Nurses
and doctors rush, for whom else to turn towards
but those trained? In every step, every attempt,
her skin flourishes. From pale to peach
to a healthy pink. Who else could save her
but those who take action, who has proven themselves?
NaPoWrimo April 24 prompt, the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it.
A poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live.
I’m writing from the Philippines and in two weeks, we’ll be voting for a new President. The candidate I’m endorsing campaigns under the color pink and with slogan, “Honest government, a better life for all.” So with this poem carries my hope for the country.
In avoiding the son of a previous dictator (who had also been attempting to rewrite history and forget the atrocities of his father), in avoiding enablers of the current admin, in hopes of a brighter future for my country.
Flipped Serendipity 