NAYA VALDELLON | Casualty

NAYA VALDELLON

Casualty

THE AUTHOR HOLDS THE COPYRIGHT TO THIS POEM. THIS IS POSTED WITH PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR.

THIS IS PART OF THE LITERATURA READING SERIES | CLICK HERE TO GO BACK TO LITERATURA

A homeless man jumped into the path of an oncoming Metro Rail Transit 3 train between the Santolan and Ortigas stations yesterday, killing him instantly…He was around 30 to 35 years old and was wearing a black T-shirt and white underwear.
—Philippine Daily Inquirer

Black and white—that’s all we know
of the man posted on today’s paper

who bypassed guards, climbed the street-
level fence, and teetered on tracks

like a tricky lie. Between grit teeth,
between two stations, he leapt

to a conclusion. Others lost their train
of thought. Nothing here is neutral—

not the photo of the hobo wooing death
without his pants, nor the caption

calling him first casualty, nor the stain
of newsprint on our palms. Having read

the facts, we must write the true story:
a reason for despair—though loco-

motives rumble in our gridlocked minds;
a home to track down—where a pair

of slippers lies spurned on the stairs
and a bed, that has creaked its last, waits;

and a name—a word common enough
that if one of us had spoken it in caress

or curse, it would have rushed like a rumor
over billboards and vendors, and echoed

in his ears, and made him turn. That split-
second spin of his head is our invention.

If he doesn’t pause, this poem will contain
a crash punctuating his body’s confession.

If he is spared, we will take our places
on the train—passengers whizzing past

the precarious, all of us almost casualties
wanting to be saved beyond this page.

This poem is part of the collection that won First Prize for Poetry in the 2004 Palanca Awards