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| Tree-lined pathway near the legendary Paoay Lake in Ilocos Norte |
Neither walk the yellow pages
of history
Nor do they feel the pulse
of the now-barren country
Whose impatient off-springs
have gone away, lost
In the wombs of other lands.
Only those who know songs
of rice birds come back
Retracing spoors of wild pigs
That, too, have disappeared
With the great forests.
They have sought refugee (and livelihood)
in the arms of strange towns,
their souls an arid desert. The temple
in the sun shall haunt them surely
and the longing knows no end:
who will miss the cool hills
of Sagada and Samoki?
2.
Speak not of virgin springs
For remembering is painful
Adventure to where once stood
green mansions of rock.
The tomb is only an aberration of fools
and we are scions
of a deathless tree.
Let us not go back
And die slowly, a red gumamela
Pinned against our cheek.
3.
More brown gods now stalk
The brown earth but who will heed
The multitudes whose combined voices
are as weak as the flow
Of Padsan and the dying rivers?
And who are the heroes?
Rizal, Mabini, Bonifacio,
And even the Lunas, the Silangs--they, too,
had their own tales that are as authentic
As the white sands of Saud in Pagudpud.
They who mouth slogans
and make comparisons
desecrate their memories
and tinge with black
their shining dignity.
My friend, the race
must go on, untouched
By the tongues of fire-throwers
and the politicians. by PLJ, originally published in
the defunct Focus magazine
JB was a prolific writer, whose stories and articles
appeared in pre-martial law magazines. He was the PR man
of the late Isabela congressman and mayor Antonio Abaya of the town of Santiago.
Friends say JB has gone blind and lives in Santiago City.
I have been looking for him for the past five years.
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