You asked me what sacrilege is

China Roberto, Philippines

so I take you back to when I was just a little girl in my school’s sailor uniform, about the same height as my grandfather’s cane– even in my Mary Janes, with dirty soles squeaking against the shiny linoleum floor as I stride forwards on my tiptoes, socks rolled down to form a donut around my ankle, spots of melted strawberry ice cream strewn across white cotton. See me reach for his hand. Small fingers still sticky from something syrupy. Skin against skin, sacrificing comfort for my sense of safety; strolling away from the stall.

We were six and seventy.

I have since grown to be seventeen,

and they stripped that mall down to scraps;

built something else. Strange new shops one after the other in a straight line. I’ll walk heel-toe in my sneakers, squeaky-clean soles and not a single speck seen. I don’t know how tall I am anymore. I don’t know whose hand I can hold in mine, now scrubbed smooth from anything sweet. All I know is what is immaculate is not what is spotless, but what is sacred.

And sacred is what we are scared to lose.

China, more frequently known as "Cas", is a Filipino-Chinese writer currently residing in the Philippines. She is the Associate English Editor for Heights Ateneo, the official literary and artistic publication for her university. Often, her poems find their foundation in past experiences as a way for her to make sense of them. Aside from writing, China likes to jog, discover local cafés, and watch films in her downtime.