Massacre

Fiction by | August 10, 2014

Twenty Innocent’s Days had passed since the first time I lit a candle in the Basilica of San Pedro Calungsod. They say that time heals all wounds but I can’t seem to get the meaning of that because every year is a suffering, every year is a curse. I tried to run but I failed for I cannot run from my own feet. This guilt and shame, I feel inside me like a knife, every time I remember their faces the last night I saw them alive. Yes, I killed my family! I killed the people who loved me. I killed them all!

I first attacked my frail and sensitive Lola Corazon. I disjointed her shaky knee bones after making her realize that her life is already meaningless because she’s old. I twisted her thin arms after I played nasty jokes and cursed her when I was annoyed. And I purposely broke her spinal cord when I made her realize that she was just causing us pain and problems and that her only consolation was to die. She did not have the chance to scream or cry for help, because I did it as secretly as possible that my mother would never know. She was my first victim!

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Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future

Nonfiction by | August 3, 2014

In the past four months, I have been around Southeast Asia in line with my GIST (Guided Independent Study Travel) sojourn to visit the bamboo schools and green schools in the region and learn their best practices and challenges.

It has been an amazing and enriching journey. I thank the East West Center and Asia Pacific Leadership Program for giving me the opportunity to explore cultures, while I continue to unravel the roads that will shape my future and my community. My deepest mahalo! Continue reading Unraveling the Roads that Shape my Future

Vulture

Poetry by | August 3, 2014

Sadness.
It comes.
It swoops down.
Its beady eyes focus,
Seeing a prey, it lunges.

Vulnerable.
Poor soul.
Battered by life
And its unrelenting blows.
It falls to the earth.

Inevitable.
Sadness comes.
Piece by piece
From my very bones
It tears the happiness completely.

Pain.
Excruciating torture.
A gaping hole
Where my heart lies.
Torn apart by its claws.

Flight.
Sadness left,
Never looked back.
I am all alone.
Weeping, I am dying inside.

—
Ms. Olojan is a literature senior at the University of Southeastern Philippines.

Ode to Amparo

Poetry by | August 3, 2014

Yes, I vividly recall
the nights
And days we seem
to get along:
Was it just a year
or eonspast?
But it feels like a lifetime;
Or, another life;
yes, another time !

Honestly,howregretful
are the ways
Those nights progress, fade :
When shackled games
are played and replayed;
When spirits and egos
are bloated, sullied!
And then, there
you are , Amparo —
Coming like a fresh whiff
of air most serene
Sobering the drunkenness
ofsouls disappeared,
Massaging the numbness
of aruined, snuffed heart.

But, why, I asked,
O’ happiness dear,
As the laughterfills,
nay, overflows my glass,
arranging, uttering,
singing affectionate songs,
As the letters flow, rage down
my pen’svein,
rummaging , dredging
o’er buried pasts;
You remove
thewinged shield
thatfreely nurtures,
thatnaturally fortifies;
I am, ruined now,
buried.
By the hills
defenseless.
Broken,
alone.
Again.

—
Mr. Zarate is Bayan Muna representative at the 16th Congress.

Kunin Mo Na

Poetry by | August 3, 2014

I
Ano pa ba ang saysay ng
buhay ko
Kung di ko marinig, iyong
munting tinig
Paano pa ba ako muling
babangon sa mundo
Lulubog sa lupa ang lahat

Ref
Di magagawang ika’y hilain
pababa
Di magagawang kaladkarin ka
rin
Di ko aakuin ang sa’yo
Basta’t iyong iyo na ang sa akin

Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika

II
Paano ko ba sasabihin sa iyo
Ang araw at gabi ay kukulangin
Di sapat ang ‘sang
tanangbuhay
Para ‘yong mawari na
minamahal kita

Ref2
Sisikapin kong mapadama
sa’yo
Pagibig na wagas at di
magbabago
Papaligayahin lang kita
hanggat humihinga ako
Ang buhay ko ay sa iyo

Koro
Kunin mo na
At ito’y ibulsa
Lahat ay inaalay ko sa’yo
Puso’t isipan
Lahat ng kailangan
Pangarap at musika

—
Mr. Gomez works at the Campus Ministry and Service Office at Xavier School in San Juan, Metro Manila. He’s also a self-taught choral conductor on the side.

Sardine in Cosmos

Poetry by | July 27, 2014

Think of this, poet,
when you write down your little truth:

We pry our heads open with a knife
and spill out the brain on a tin plate,

and pass it on to four or five people
squatting on the bamboo floor.

We sprinkle salt
onto the red nebula,

Have to offer them vinegar
with kisses of a million chili peppers, too.

What we’ve given out may not do much
than to fill their mouths

and trim their bodies
into thin bamboo sticks,

but one thing’s for sure:
We offer something new

in this universe of plates,
appeal to those wide-eyed

who rarely have such a feast.
They all sure take our red cosmos in,

and think of black heaven
in a country of lost fish heads.

Think of this, poet,
when you write down your truth.

—
Erika Navaja works in a call center and is in love.

Windowsill

Nonfiction by | July 27, 2014

I stood outside our house, waiting for my best friend. I was holding a Tupperware of spaghetti and salad, which Nanay prepared last night for Noche Buena, and a white Coca-cola shirt from Ate. I guess the weather was moody on Christmas. It was a bit indecisive. It rained at dawn and became gloomy in the morning. Then it was sunny and rainy at the same time in the afternoon. I could almost inhale the mixture of dust and rain. It irritated my nose. If I was still a kid, for sure one of the elders would shout at me from the window to get inside for I might get a fever. The raindrops were getting bigger. I decided to go inside the house and get an umbrella. The umbrellas were neatly placed behind the house’s front door. I chose the white one with a blue floral design. I went back outside. Raymond finally arrived three minutes later. He was my best friend for eight long years and one of the reasons why I did not hurry in getting myself into a relationship. He brought me to movie houses at least once in three months. He bought me mefenamic acid whenever I had my period. He would come to my place on weekends and ask permission from my Tatay and Nanay if we could stroll around the neighborhood for the night. He was tall, skinny, and beautiful. He was the most beautiful gay guy in the world.

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