YOLANDA
ETHAN CHUA
Super typhoon Yolanda, international name Haiyan, hit the Philippines in 2013. Three years later, many Philippine communities continue to struggle with recovery. This series of poems was written on a visit to Tacloban and Eastern Samar, two areas severely affected by the typhoon.
1.
she is plastered on tarpaulins hanging frail by carved up roadsides
nestled leaves and coconut trees with sagging sunday palms
as if the earth were to be named:
baptized, christened,
called mother.
2.
hung on a clothesline they suggest a family -
white t-shirt, dress, three t-shirts growing smaller to the right
3.
When was it? One year ago? Two?
November, near the end of 2013.
Those from here have longer memories.
4.
A stretch of wall in the surrounding grass,
bare stone - as if in need of home,
roof, room,
or shelter.
Kilometers away,
a wooden post removed from soil and
thrown into the rice fields
by God’s calloused fingers.
Afterwards
the memorials built themselves.
5.
a street sign:
Tatay, mahal ka namin
dahan-dahan po
6.
here everything is named,
scrawled david on the prow of a jeepney with black marker,
hanging by wire a shredded poster martin romualdez weighed down by two glass bottles
filled with db paller brackish fluid.
papered i an waray, christopher thong on half-sections of wall they read
like padre pio saints, sinners, and angeli grace misspelled offerings.
7.
pastor gani at the wheel drives by a spot and says
that in the weeks that followed he found bones
bleached and looking like
so many shards of china.
8.
Pati sa mga tao parang walang nangyari
underneath a sign that warns of storm surges they are
putting tents up again.
she is plastered on tarpaulins hanging frail by carved up roadsides
nestled leaves and coconut trees with sagging sunday palms
as if the earth were to be named:
baptized, christened,
called mother.
2.
hung on a clothesline they suggest a family -
white t-shirt, dress, three t-shirts growing smaller to the right
3.
When was it? One year ago? Two?
November, near the end of 2013.
Those from here have longer memories.
4.
A stretch of wall in the surrounding grass,
bare stone - as if in need of home,
roof, room,
or shelter.
Kilometers away,
a wooden post removed from soil and
thrown into the rice fields
by God’s calloused fingers.
Afterwards
the memorials built themselves.
5.
a street sign:
Tatay, mahal ka namin
dahan-dahan po
6.
here everything is named,
scrawled david on the prow of a jeepney with black marker,
hanging by wire a shredded poster martin romualdez weighed down by two glass bottles
filled with db paller brackish fluid.
papered i an waray, christopher thong on half-sections of wall they read
like padre pio saints, sinners, and angeli grace misspelled offerings.
7.
pastor gani at the wheel drives by a spot and says
that in the weeks that followed he found bones
bleached and looking like
so many shards of china.
8.
Pati sa mga tao parang walang nangyari
underneath a sign that warns of storm surges they are
putting tents up again.
ETHAN CHUA is a Chinese-Filipino spoken word poet from the Philippines, and an incoming freshman at Stanford University. He has written poems about stars, short fiction involving bisexual vampires, and essays where his grandparents escape Communist soldiers in Fujian again and again. He's also the cofounder of Ampersand, an organization dedicated to giving the youth avenues to express themselves through art. Read his work at medium.com/@ezlc327.
