I was on this chair
When day was briefly night.  There was
An ephemeral sense of regret
That I was not taking photographs for
The next century, or for grandchildren
I don’t know I will have.  No matter;

Outside it was
Just another typhoon morning
Clouded but still, as if all of Manila
Were in its eye.  I watched the sun
Obscured over Iwo Jima, online
Over Youtube.  The Japanese newsman
Excitedly punctured the silence and
The darkness that fell with
Words for those on chairs like I,
Not on the same island.

Fortune smiled, and the sky
Cleared over our roof.  There was
A moment through dark film where
It became real for us, and not again
Until another century, another humid shadow,
Another generation or two.

Copyright 2009 Mona Caccam

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