Dreams exploding like detonated bombs - that's the sound of our prayer. Tears cannot fall fast enough to drown our pains - could they be the rain coaxing kindness to life or the glue patching broken pieces with gold. We are wounded and we soldier on.
The photo above is a picture of my sister-in-law's sculpture, a group of exploded heads, that sits in one corner of my in-laws' garden. I have long been intrigued by its theme. After I have written this piece which was inspired by current events (in London, in Marawi City, Philippines - my home country, among others recently hit by terror), I thought that my SIL's work fit the theme.