Scratches of Survival: A dream sprouting in soil to dry
“Isang kahig, isang tuka.”
That’s the rhythm of my days.
Work enough today
just to eat tonight,
and hope tomorrow
won’t demand more than I can give.
The bills pile up quietly—
until school reminds me
that learning has its price.
Sudden fees land heavy,
like stones in my pocket
when I’m already sinking.
I stretch myself thin:
training on the field,
writing through the night,
dreaming of a future
that always feels one step away.
My hands know the ache of labor,
my mind knows the weight of worry.
Still I keep moving,
because stopping
is a luxury the poor can’t afford.
“Isang kahig, isang tuka.”
But beneath it,
a stubborn hope lives—
that one day
I’ll give more than survival,
that one day
this fight will carry me
to something better.