1
i am unable to hear the sea’s whispers over the tourists’ voices.
i shut my eyes at the repeated flashes of their cameras.
2
the speedboat bloats over rocky waves and
i draw my fingertips over the ocean surface, revel
in the way the water pulls against skin
3
manong drops a rusting anchor somewhere into the sea and
i imagine the thud it makes, crashing into families of fry,
generations swallowed by rough membranes of sand
4
i think back to the iridescence of the reefs under this part of the sea
want to harvest the shattered bones of coral
5
manong helps me off the boat, cautions to watch
my step, so i don’t slip into the folds of the ocean
6
i want to tell him that in another life, that once, i used to call this home.
Julia Ongking currently lives in her beautiful home country: the Philippines. Born and raised as a Chinese-Filipino, she enjoys developing her perspectives through reading, writing, and having meaningful conversations with people from all walks of life. Her work has appeared in SAND Literature and Rappler Magazine, amongst other digital and print publications.
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