Healing
By Marissa Dela Cruz Reorizo-Redburn
translated by Helga Andrea R. Casillan
My machete uproots the weeds from the earth. I dig
out the kurokamote, the carabao grass, the wild ginger and
the many other weeds whose names I do not know. Even the
bashful mimosa does not escape my blade. They are left in
many mounds in my trail. I gather them all into one, the
mimosa's thorns stabbing my hands and arms.
The sun beating down on my skin, the stinging of the
thorns, and the weight growing steadily heavier in my chest
come in searing waves and overpower me.
My machete speeds up in its task until I wound the cheeks of
the earth. My sweat rains down on the ground, bathing my
chest and drenching the weeds below. I stare down at my
blade for some time.
One by one, I pluck out the thorns piercing my skin.
Then, gingerly. I bury the grass and weeds and flatten the
ground above them. I rinse my machete in the stream. The
dirt that stained its blade is quietly carried away by the
current.
1.What was the story all about?
2.Who is the speaker in the poem?
3.What were the images used that portrays the meaning of the text?​