Amado L. Picardal
Peace and quiet all over the land
the ears of corn have fallen to the ground
and the weeds overwhelm the furrows.
Peace and quiet within the hut,
the dust has gathered on the floor,
the spider spins its web
across the broken door.
A putrid stench pervades the air
it does not come from a mere carcass
for no prisoners were taken
except the pigs and the chickens.
An eerie silence rules the land
that can easily be broken
by the staccato of m‑16
should any movement stir
the pacific landscape.
This used to be the promised land,
and now it is a no man's land.