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Lahar! Platinum spider of fear.

Spinning filaments of pale, viscous

                        Death:

Filaments plucked from the bile of earth,

Filaments as potent as an ancient curse,

Taut, unsnapping filaments of venom,

Filaments of deadly aim, unbreakable promise

                        Of knife on stone.

            Lahar, Lahar!

The death you bring

                        Is liquid, full of grit:

Shattering our eyeballs,

                        Rasping our throats;

Silver centipede slinking

            Into fissures of tamarind and parched earth,

                        Into spouts of spent water pumps,

                                    Into lifeless doorways and windows,

Into wheel and spring of industry and conveyance;

Horns scouring concrete and asphalt,

Maws devouring wire and metal,

            Gnawing at bridges and electric poles,

Tearing at every sign of civilization.

Abacan. Clark Field. Mabalacat. Bamban. Porac.

            Bacolor. Lubao. Sasmuan. Concepcion.

San Marcelino. San Narciso. San Fernando. San Felipe.

                        Floridablanca.

Lime-filled honey secreted by fanatic bees.

Echoing groans of dying carabaos and tamaraws.

Vertigo of victim and ash of the crumbled past.

Idianale, Poko, Damolag, Lalahon, Dian Masalanta,

What demented power decreed

                        This calamity?  

Lahar! Emissary of death,

            Mad negotiator,   

                        Without flag or mineral,

                                    Acrobatic assassin,

The sun blinked at the cruel irony:

Borders were erased, rivers rose

                                    To the level of their banks,

Landmarks and fences vanished,

Symbols and standards melted,

The commerce of scad and crab ceased,

Buried in the same justice of sand:

                                    The Educated and the Tribesman,

                                    The Nuclear and the Crock,

                                    The Rust and the Plow,

                                    The Hacienda and the Mire,

                                    The Cross and the Christ,

And peace reigned in the vast plain—

            Gray and antiseptic peace.

From the chunked rockface

            And plastic city of tents and charity,

But for the isle of the quick goat and frog,

            And the drifting refuge of the desperate snail,

            And petrified limbs of acacia and coconut,

Of one color are leaf and petal,

            Of one complexion the barrio and town,

                        Of one taste and voice the wind:

                                    Lahar! All is lahar.

No crowflight can measure

The ancient sheet and gray stench

Of the volcano hour: