Scratches of Survival: A back that bends to carry tomorrow's sun
“Isang kahig, isang tuka.”
That’s how I live each day.
Hands cracked from work,
pockets almost empty,
but I push on—
because my son is in school.
Every coin I bring home
already has a name:
rice, bills, fare,
and then the school asks again—
fees I didn’t see coming,
fees that steal the little I saved.
I watch him study at night,
eyes heavy but still burning,
dreaming of a life
far from this kind of hunger.
And I tell myself:
this is why I endure,
why I break my back for another peso.
It hurts to admit
that I can’t always give enough.
The weight of that failure
sits heavy in my chest.
But I’d rather bear the ache
than let him carry it.
“Isang kahig, isang tuka.”
For me, survival.
For him, a future.
And as long as I breathe,
I’ll scratch and scrape the earth
to make sure he gets there.