Anna, an incoming senior at a school in Makati City, shares this beautiful poem about Bukidnon. Anna’s family is from Bukidnon and she makes it a point to come home at least every year.

In fact, Anna just finished a brief stint at the City Court in Malaybalay City
.
This poem, which she wrote last January 19, 2008, was more of a short essay then. However, Anna reconstructed and edited it just last May 13, 2008. This, after she got back from her Bukidnon trip and while she pondered about the conversation she had with Malaybalay City Mayor Florencio Flores last May 9 (she formally thanked him for giving her the opportunity to apprentice at the City Court)

Anna writes: “The inspiration for the poem was, in fact, the trip I made with a group of datus, natives, and some students from BSU last April 30 to May 1. We went to a place in Can-Ayan, or beyond it, near the river. It was the annual ritual of the Bukidnon-Tagoloanon tribe and I was invited by Judge Estrada to share the experience. And I did. And I was awed, even humbled down to my core. Hence, the poem.”

Bukidnon

by: anna

where the air is clean and captivating,
where you feel the dewy grass beneath your bare feet;
where the birds awaken your senses at sunrise,
where the trees’ roots play with boulders and pebbles alike,
and where the same trees’ topmost branches reach skyward to tell the

Heavens of your dreams;

where the roads go up and down and up again,
curving toward the hidden inevitability, another magnificent unknown;
where restless souls are given time to think, to breath,
where castaways are welcomed and given space to heal;
where escapists are provided caves to hide their fears and their tales,
and where all abandon and adventure gallop along with the roan horses –

unbridled, untamed;

where smiles are free and laughter comes much easily;
where the clouds meet the pale blue mountains in a quiet coexistence,
where the moon and stars shine brightly against the night sky;
where the end starts just like every song’s beginning,
and where tomorrow feels like countless of good, harmonious days;

where comfort lies, snugly with a cup of freshly brewed coffee,
where the children play like how our children are supposed to play;
where we sleep, soundly – even dreamlessly,
where the colors are bright and soothingly familiar:
where our true home lies. and waits to warm our tired spirits once more.

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