Isle of the Dead
by Kristian Sendon CorderoThe waves wash in corpses together with broken shells,
dirt, and sea leaves whose roots bring skin rashes.
The bodies have been bitten off in parts, fish and jellyfish
ate away some of the ears, sucked out eyes, one infant was legless.
The price of fish went down, prawns were given away. On the shore,
the boats lay stranded, or had lifted nets of bad dreams together
with matted hair—very dark, black.
When the sun told the hours again everything became numbers
and documents once more: names of the dead, number of survivors,
company or government assistance for the injured and the orphaned,
the captain’s license, the date of the tragedy, testimonies.
On the island where some bodies were found, a corpse had bewitched
someone, who then began healing the sick, foretelling again
the return of the missing. Crosses multiply on each date, signs
of waiting and the continuing wake among empty graves.
Papuntang Isla Santelmo
Labas-masok ang mga kargador sa pier.
Nag-uunahan ang mga paa sa pagdiskaraga
ng mga kakailanganin sa piyesta.
Kailangang makaalis ang baroto
bago pumatak ang alas-otso
nang di abutin ng pag-aati ng dagat.
Bawat minuto ng pagkaantala
sumusulpot ang Roca Encantada—
ang islang batobalani na kinakatakuta
maging ng mga oragon na timoner.
Sumasama sa hangin ang maliliit na buhangin
at kumakapit sa buhok. Tumitilamsik
ang mga alon sa balat ng mga pasahero
at nagiging bubog ng mga asin.
Ganito nila hinahabol ang oras.
Ganito sila hinahabol ng oras.
