By Vicente F. David
As a tribute to the wonderful people of Sibale, this poem is heartily dedicated.
“Her people is my people”
From early morn till dusk of day,
Life slowly grind winding way
Seeking for bare existence from the sun baked weary
That God bequeath to His sons forlorn
Life in the hills is hard and dreary,
Leaving those poor lost souls weak and weary
From sunrise to sunset bent with the burden
Ekking out of living by down trodden.
Our Lord our God when can we ever breathe a sight of relief
From this forlorn life of us bequeathed
By our forefathers long buried and forgotten
On the land we learned to love so dearly.
Cheer up though my dear brothers,
God has infinite way to brighten this world
The chirping birds and myriad blossoms
Make up for the life’s doldrums.
Someday, somewhere, somehow, we will meet together,
In a golden place where God reigns supreme
Where no sadness and tear drops fall but joys to last forever
Eternal grace for the poor and the humble folks like you my dear brothers.