This empty box has many things inside
as this sacred space, this window frame.
And all around, the stained glass dreaming they are prayers
gleaming in sunrays, filtering light.
In my heart a song promises to grow wings
fluttering in tongues, beating white
as the sheets I try to keep
clutched to my chest, the frail warmth of my heart, my blood
pulsing, rhythmic drops in the ear, singing
of all my vivid lives and dreams
uncaged by quarantine.
– Aimee Morales
– Ramil Digal Gulle
– Niccolo Vitug
– Rem Tanauan
– Rina Angela Corpus