The street looks different through scratched Perspex and burning petrol. Buildings and people morph into a grey spectrum – speed of shadows providing distinction. Despite hundreds of voices chanting “kill the pigs” and the thud of bricks and scaffolding poles on riot shields, I still hear my heartbeat and taste fear inside choking acrid smoke. God placed me in a privileged box and I struggle to connect with their rage, their poverty, their isolation; thinking only of how to keep family and friends away from a eulogy.
Anger floods the street
Waves of hatred roll against
© Davy D 2017
For the Word-High July Prompts of Filipino Words hosted by A Reading Writer.
Dalisay – (adj.) Pure, undiluted.