Pamaling

one of those afternoon
the poets of life
are faced-to-faced
with a burning sunset
by the west side of the island
while men from the sea
aboard a banca
playful with the afternoon swell
run around in circles
casting a mile-long net

the sun started to fall asleep
when steps hurried
and foot prints come out
by the hundred
young and old
unknown faces
but familiar smiles
dozen pair of hands
in every basket of fish catch
waiting for the squids
and for the fullmoon to come out

every child is ready with the tin can
hoping to bring home a fish or two
for dinner or maybe breakfast
on a big day
the harvest may last for
seven suppers, seven lunches
or end up in clothesline as dried fish
which may last half a year
the only food on the table
just enough to stretch
a family’s budget
to feed and the holy and the sick
a “baling” exercise
amongst the Agoho community
is a century old experience
for no man lives like an island
but in the island
lives men who together
carry their bancas off to shore
and share the catch
by the end of the day