Mayon is the most active volcano in the Philippines, erupting over 52 times in the past 500 years... Its most destructive recorded eruption occurred on February 1, 1814. The volcano belched dark ash and eventually bombarded the town of Cagsawa [where] about 1,200 locals perished in what is considered to be the most lethal eruption in Mayon's history. —Wikipedia
We live in the time of ash and awe,
where the bell tower of a ruined
cathedral frames the perfect dome
its crater glow combusting in pallid
pyroclastic smoke, thousands have fled
its strombolian show
of affection, amid the terrible beauty
engulfing kilometers of sky and city
under siege of nature’s desire
to shape itself, they say that Mayon
was the womb that rose from the burial
tomb of lovers Magayon and Panganoron
passion in the form of fire turned crust
then magma, then igneous stone
then lava, then a quiet, then rage,
then warmth, then grief, then ash again—
layers that unravel histories, unpredictable
yet predictable all the same.
Those who were burned have forgotten
relocating closer to the pulse
where the fire of Ibalon resides.
That’s the theology of love.
To be close enough to feel the rumble
of a molten heart, to be in the shadow
of its ending, and to exist,
every time a little more consumed
by its divine ravishing of flame.
Ryan Caidic is a Filipino poet and advertising creative living in Denmark. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Columbia Review, The Missouri Review, Southeast Review, Apricity, Poetry Wales, and elsewhere, and has been highly commended by the Bridport Prize and Munster Literature Center.
