Photograph by DANIEL BEREHULAK/NY Times
Dean Tan ’18 earned a Bronze Medal for Poetry in the New Jersey Council of Teachers of English statewide writing contest for high school students. The award ceremony was held on Thursday, April 27 in Scotch Plains, N.J., where the winning poems were performed by trained orators. Enjoy this wonderful poem by Dean.
Shabu
1.
He would salute us, raise a tanned hand to the sweat of his brow,
A slight curl of the fingers, an easy lift of the elbow.
At daylight he waited outside the housing compound
In crisp uniform and cap, an ordinary guard, but our custodian of peace,
At ease but never slow, his familiar, close eyes,
The ready snap of arm into position. Vigilant, through the night,
Even as hungry mosquitoes feasted and jeering monkeys laughed.
Our conversation, silent – a brief nod, understood without language,
Words that spoke acknowledgement between us,
Yet no more than an exchange of glances, his eyes moving on
To the next face passing through the checkpoint
Days in and out, the same conversation.
But his attentive guard, cut short by a cowardly bullet,
A jealous neighbor, angry accusations of “dealing shabu”,
Delivering verdict without evidence,
The President’s voice echoing,
PUSHER AKO, the cardboard read, “I’m a pusher.”
That morning I conversed with no one.
2.
It was a day of humid heavy noise, the dogs
Yapping in the streets of Manila, crumbling churches,
The children, half-clothed, hopscotching between puddles and parents’ busy legs,
Throwing their chinelas – tattered bright pink, decorated with flowers
And princesses, smiles obscured by dirt and grime –
Cars honking, arguing with pedestrians flowing through dense lanes.
His wife and children, weaving between the cars,
His eldest, bags of peanuts slung across his shoulder, like belts of ammunition;
His daughter, knocking on tinted car windows, drivers looking straight ahead;
His wife, nursing an infant in one arm, a plastic cup in the other,
A single peso, enough to last another day.
He had been walking home early in the morning after his nightly shift,
His cap and uniform damp but still proud,
His eyes alert but starting to droop
Then, approached by a shadowy figure, angry and misdirected, ready to kill.
3.
Today I see a taller, leaner guard, younger, neater,
Blue uniform buttoned to the top, tucked inside the polished belt buckle,
The yellow words SECURITY blaringly bright,
Accompanied by anxious, quicker eyes
Fingers rigidly in line, elbow up and at a sharp angle
Shoulders square, back straight
Chin up, head forward to serve and protect.
I miss the conversation, now, only an awkward glance
And eyes dart back into a far removed distance, hesitant
To recognize, to remember- Did he know this older man?-
The trucks that rumble by, the faces that stare bleakly
At the dilapidated street, the rickety shacks of rusty metal,
Weathered posters of smiling congressmen and women,
Promising change, justice, law
To the barangay, the weary people, young families, newborn children