Usbong sa Lilom – on death penalty

Palasak ang kaisipan na ang hatid ng pamumunga ay isang kapararakang inaasahan sa mga dumarating na pagsibol. Magmula sa mga usbong na naghihintay pumiglas sa kaniyang mga sanga. Pagtubo, at pag-ani, ika nga.

Lagi nga bang magmumula ang mga bunga sa ugat na makapagbibigay-buhay sa hinaharap? Dumadaloy nga ba sa bawat hibla ang lason o gamot na likha sa dahan-dahanang itinimbang na pag-aning kay tagal ipinunla?

Taliwas sa inaasam ng karamihan, ang pagbunga ay maaaring sumalamin sa mga suloy na paparating patungo sa tahas nitong kahihinatnan. Ang pagbunga, ang inilalathalang “pagbabago”, tila ba nag-aapurang ihatid ang bawat isa tungo sa nakaambang hantungan.

Isang pagwawakas, timbang sa paggawad ng hatol na kikitil ng walang pagdarakila. Ang nakaambang pagpataw ng linlang na hukom. Anupa’t ang mga bunga ay ang tungki ng mga disposisyong kalalabasan. Kasabay na lamang nito ay bibitayin ang mga umusbong na iginawad ang wakas sa kamay ng mga proklamang manghuhusga.

Pirming liblib ang kadahilanan sa hindi inaasahan, hindi masusugpo. Tila pagkawit sa kinahahantungang kubli sa kamalayan – liban na nga lamang sa piling hinirang.

Tayo, na mga bunga, ay kahihinatnan na lamang ng hatol sa biglaang pagkakataong gawad sa isang huwad na trono. Gayong yayamaning kulong sa takdang paggapas! Sinisingil nang walang pakundangan sa pandagan ng halagang mainam man o suklam, tayo rin ang may sala!

Dangan,
anumang marapat na hangganan, hindi ba’t ang bawat bunga ay nagmula sa mumunting punla? Paloob ang napakaraming posibilidad. Kailanman, di matatangnan sa pagtimbang at paggawad ng bitay nitong lihis sa punto na maaaring makapamunga.

Lalo pa sa kalagayan nating tila isang himpilang nakapaloob sa lilom.

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Lingat Ligisin – short story, a tribute to fallen journalists

Anumang oras nagtatangkang gumahis ang garalgal na tinig ng aming dalatan. Waring nilalagom ang mitig na mga pandamang bakay maski mumunting bakas ng tanglaw. Sa daluhong ng abo ng kabihasnan, sumila na ito ng tuluyan.

Gayunpaman, hindi ininda ni Karis ang nangangaluntoy na buhanging paminsan minsa’y humihipo sa kaniyang mga paa. Balot man ng sapatos, tila naman nilalatay paloob sa sarili nitong mga hurno. O ang labinlimang oras ng walang humpay nilang paglalakbay sa mabangis na siklab ng araw. Sapitin lamang ang nakaambang balasik ng dakong hinabi sa katampalasan,
na agad naman niyang sinunggaban.

Isang buwan na makalipas nang makipagsapalaran siya sa kalupaang pinira-piraso ng digmaan. Dakma ang kaniyang panulat at papel, tumangan noo’y walang iba kundi sa bulag na paninindigan. Dangan sa linggong iyon ng pakikipaglaro sa bingit ng kamatayan, walang pakundangan niyang sisilayan ang himpilang dinaranas bilang isa lamang oportunidad. Tulay upang maihantad ang katotohanan sa kaytagal niyang tinahak na pagsugal sa propesiyon.

Ang kasilawang palad sa pagkakataong iyon, walang mukhang maitatangis sa mga matang ngayo’y tumititig ng walang pagkahabag. Isang sulyap sa mga tanikalang yapos ang lupon, ay ginapi ng lunggati na mapawi na lamang sa lunang kinasadlakan. Batid ng sandaling iyon ang kailanma’y di maliliwanagang panig anupamang iwika ng kasaysayan.

Bago pa tuluyang pumikit ang kaniyang mga mata.

Ang inihantong na lumuklok sa dutang siniklaban ng linggatong, ngayon wari’y naghihintay na lamang din mahabagang lumikom.

Fear-Tossed Waves

“Dare to be different.”

these words never cease to echo in the heart of our society. Yet, we are like the waves tossed into the ocean, going with the endless flow. Afraid to turn against the blow of the wind as we watch our fellow clash against one another. The stronger ones always overpowering the weak. But is this all that is left of us, always having to live in fear?

Isolation. Abuse. Neglect.
I believe at some point in our lives we have felt but left these undealt with. Our unsuitable actions and inactions that hold the power to turn us into none other than the monsters we once cowered from.. Into none other than our own oppressors. Our indifference is like a disease spreading, conquering us like wild fire, allowing the browbeaters to take charge. With those that refuse to be taken in getting burned and forced back into a corner. Unbeknownst to most is the reality in which they are being molded into belief, saying it is their own fault being different.

Yes, we are but one ocean. We also have our own tides. In retrospect, death had not been the one to stop us from living, rather it is the cage of fear we have built ourselves upon. Ultimately what matters most is our resolute spirit of which we stride forth amidst the tempest of life, and truly, wholeheartedly moving forward in our current. In the end, all of us shall vanish ashore, like the seemingly endless waves. We must choose wisely which path to tread. Even after clashing amidst endless hardships, who knows?

We could make the calm that balances the boat.

Update. 5th of March, year 2017

Greetings, lovely souls. First of all, I want to beg your pardon since it has been quite some time since I last posted some of my works here. The last few weeks-months rather, have been a very crucial and busy time for me. I do have some exquisite news to all you wonderful followers of this blog.

As some of you might have noticed, I only post excerpts of my works. If you’d be delighted to hear it, I will make up for my absence by posting a series of my writings and this time no doubt it will be unabridged.

Just to share a brief background for you all… My composition entitled The Fear Tossed Waves (as you can observe there are two excerpts currently posted beforehand) was actually a winning piece of a school competition I joined at over a year ago. (I was in tenth grade at the time) It tackles the issue of the Rights of a Child Awareness specifically in line with the prevention of bullying featured in our school paper, The Blue Chronicle. I pondered about how it certainly is worth sharing. Now I am gladly planning to present to all of you its full tale.

 I just hope that the act of uncovering it with you all may bring courage and strength to inspire you to take charge and be the hero of your own lives. Especially to those who are and have gone through a tough time with those nasty brow-beaters. Remember that amidst a roaring ocean plagued by a tempest, even a single wave has the potential to make a huge difference towards the tide. Thus, offering safety to the boat of life.

Other than that are a series of prose and poetry I made out of my times of contemplation, literature I offered the school papers, or if you so wish I can also share with all of you lovely souls the editorials I’ve made these past few months. I would gladly hear from you all!

Till then, ignite yourselves to the flames of reminiscence

and this above all, to thine own self be true
Shakespeare, Hamlet

Yours Faithfully,

Megara LeGaulle Montasse

ignite

 

You were the human form of FIRE

and I was hopelessly enticed by your flame.

Little did I know how how you’ll scorch these precious wings

locking me in an eternal, foreboding embrace.

plea.

 

How we catch ourselves,

wishing for the physical pain instead.

Inflicted on the flesh, shedding blood on the skin.

A wound so evident.

No more of trying to prove the pain that it bears.

opia

 

Look in the mirror,

tell me all the good things you see.

Or is it that we become hooked up in noticing the imperfections tied to our very own skin and bones,

almost like it is some sort of addiction.

 

aflame

I flee enkindling flower fields

devouring me.

As I’m bound to choke I roll the dice

in trembling skin and bones which starve of life

filled in hopes of witnessing

the crack of dawn arise

Yet imbued in the cataclysmic sky above

My midheaven dreams

stained crimson blood