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Literary

A blood-partner for life

A blood-partner in life once told me that at the very long road that we continued to walk over, everyone seeks their individualities and ends up being alone at some point for it was what she said—essential.

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Artwork by Tricia Jardin

Counting the time that is headed towards the day where love seemingly arises and everyone is seemingly enjoying the moment with their loved ones are about to come. A blood-partner in life once told me that at the very long road that we continued to walk over, everyone seeks their individualities and ends up being alone at some point for it was what she said—essential. Kind of ironic that her next words contradicted her first statement by stating that the process of it is just what makes us feel alone, for we focus on achieving for ourselves, for moving forward for sometimes, selfish reasons. But the truth is, we are never alone.

Humans are social beings, even with people who hated other people, we are still very connected to one another. The paths that we take are all terrifying, and the absolute lack of knowledge on to what lies ahead is what makes us hold on to our edges and halt at some point, but someone will always press our gears and move us. May it be an event that was made possible by people, a person who inspires, a person who was damaged and we take pity, and even a person who was already gone can push us to keep moving forward.

If not a lot, that are some of the few things that I learned from her and kept on believing even after a decade. I had faith in her that there are some things that won’t forever go smoothly as I would expected, but it is okay to stop, to relive of the people who made me reach this far. The memories of comfort and serenity were enough to ease the pain of a burning resolution, that is why sometimes we burn-out because of the excessive will of selfishness that only centers our ego and pride. Soothing me from my combusting, bright resolve is someone who will never go extinct from my memory, and cheesy it might sound—from my heart, also. A blood-partner that is existent as long as I continue to crawl, walk, run, and stop in my path.

Today, I am standing beside a polished gray rock along with my parents, visiting a day earlier from what should be the day of visit. Her name is engraved on the smooth concrete and I, with my mother and father recalls the days that she was standing with us. On the one-day early from the day of love and hearts, we stood watching, and in unison, we said: Happy Valentines, Ate.

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Literary

This Thing

Swallowing the sun and rain
But myself still remains
Soaking up all my validity
It eventually shifts my reality

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Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

I don’t know when it came
For there is no one to blame
On the other side of this face
There, standing with disgrace

This is a source of danger
A voice of a slipping reminder
Is this probably the truth?
Feeling estranged from my youth?

Conflicted with my ideals
Finding what would appeal
My mind that was in blight
Would eventually find its light

All alone this body is terrified
This takes over just to terrorize
Authenticity has been eliminated
Like the luster being defeated

Lies ahead were vivid hues
I was blinded, but I would choose|
Reaching out to that lucidity
Maybe to achieve serenity

Leaving this catastrophe
Can’t be done casually
But possible with a tenacity
Evacuating from that apathy

Swallowing the sun and rain
But myself still remains
Soaking up all my validity
It eventually shifts my reality

Not anymore fragmented
This, that has been connected.

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Literary

Still, The Land Dreams

In the guarded fence made of
steel,
They will not be silenced. 

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Artwork by Patricia Jardin/TomasinoWeb

The pearl of the orient seas
was muted, chained in absolute obedience
a forsaken motherland weeps.
But among the close-eyed sheep,
There are those who refused to blink. 

In the guarded fence made of
steel,
They will not be silenced. 

Gabriela Silang from the North
led thousands of men and
feared by the hands that dared them.
Andres Bonifacio,
in the tangled woods lies not the leash
a hidden cause; wolves baring their teeth.
Teresa Magbuana from the South,
the Visayan Joan of Arc, a sharpshooter
of the three-headed beasts. 

They spilled ink and words began to
breathe.
It bends, whispering, “we’re here…” 

Dr. José Rizal,
phantoms chased the ink, it laughs
because even Death has eluded it.
Graciano Lopez Jaena,
botod, loved dearly by the masses
revelled until the friars sneered.
Marcelo Del Pilar,
smooth easy-teller of tales
a guide-post, words map of streets. 

The motherland carries timetables of heroes and heroines
wounded whispers and dreams.
August 31st, the youth walked
on the path of ghosts.
the trees rustles, the land laughs.
A cycle begins: 

When freedom is in tatters,
when the streets of cities
have habits of making people disappear
when blood is shed on the asphalt
the heroes began to sing and
mirrors reflected a long history:
                            The people will not be silenced.

 

by Johanna Leelan Gee

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Literary

Ang pulso ng binibigkas

Ang wika ay susi upang makakalap ng kapangyarihan.

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Artwork by Patricia Jardin

Ang wika ay susi upang makakalap ng kapangyarihan. Instrumento ito sa pagkilala ng daloy, sa panliligaw ng panig, at sa paglalakbay ng isip. Ganunpaman, magkaiba ang mundo ng mga salita at ng mga sinasabi— hindi lamang tainga ang dapat na nakikinig at hindi lamang bibig ang dapat na nagsasalita.

Sa bawat pagmulat ng mata sa kasalukuyang lipunan, marami ang oportunidad para mahasa ang sariling lengguwahe. Lumitaw man ang pagkakaiba ay hindi dapat patabain ang pangamba; kapatid ng takot ang paninikil at pagkubli. Ang hatol sa pag-aagwat ng wika ay hindi kasalanan, bagkus ay ang kalayaang magmay-ari ng boses at ang patuloy na pagkatuto.

Mahapdi nang iniiwanan ng oras ang kaniyang mga ginagapangan at hindi ito tumitigil. Ang paglalakbay ng isip ukol sa patutunguhan ng Pilipinas ay matagal nang gutom sa tugon. Ilang bukang-liwayway na lamang at may wikang maglalahad ng mga salaysay ng daloy at distribusyon ng panig. SONA ang magtatanghal kung naitahi bang mainam ang mga kwento ng Pilipino sa kwento ng Pilipinas. Nakababad kaya ang wika ng may kapangyarihan sa wikang makapangyarihan? 

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