Pakra

"Unsa na'ng naningog ron?" I asked our guide. (What are those sounds?)
"Pakra na Ma'am," he replied.  (Forest Frogs)

I thought they were birds. Their croaking was loud it was as if there was a whole orchestra of them. Probably there was indeed a whole orchestra of them. And then slowly the fog descended enveloping the entire lake. A slow dance of white water droplets to the rhythm of "Pakra" singing.

Here I was all muddied and tired from the climb which they aptly described "assault" all the way up and then the very steep descent with only a nylon rope, muddy and slippery patches of earth as foot holds to hang on to for dear life.

Here I was.

And then somewhere hidden in the vicinity of the lake were "Pakra" croaking so loudly it sounded like choristers belting.

And then the fog appeared slowly, carefully, intimately, quietly.

In that moment, somehow I knew, the Universe, in all her ways that are simple yet magnanimous, in the song of the frogs and the quietness of the fog, she was telling me,

"Welcome home."

April 12, 2017
Lake Janagdan
Brgy Cabintan
Ormoc, Leyte

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