Yakapin

Jenny wakes up at six in the morning

Stares at the blue sky above

Closes her eyes and goes back to her dreams

She is safe, she feels safe

Half past six in the morning

She feels the sting from the burning sun

It’s time to work, time to walk

She taps her skirt to straighten it

“I’m ready.”

The roads are filled today

Busy as always, she thought

The horns erupting from here ’til the end

Drivers shouting everywhere

“Roads are closed ahead. Alternate routes.”

Jenny smiles.

Early OT for her work

She walks near a black SUV

Knocks on the window

Waits for the response

Knocks again. Quiet.

“The third’s the last.”

None.

Empty hand

Empty stomach

It’s eight and she got four pesos in her hand

The traffic jam is gone

She walks to another street

Ignoring some shadows talking

“Her parents must be lazy”

“How could they let her find money for them”

“Such a pity”

Jenny walks

Squeezing the 10 pesos

It’s nine-thirty.

Empty stomach

Empty streets

Jenny’s lazy parents,

as the shadows said,

Are lying still under

some burned woods behind

The slums were burned the other night

Twenty more families fled,

many children left

Some were kept under the rubble.

She feels safe,

abandoned.

Safe is a lie.

She’s eight and it’s her first day of work

She got 10 pesos, but left alone in this world.