Maguindanao is not for the martials

December 15, 2009

 

 

 

 

 

I look down

through a quarter of a million miles of space.

 

The moon shines on thieves

way towards the green grass of December

 

and I see nothing,

 

nothing but strangers,

 

dressing in the darkness of the fields

 

hundreds of them,

 

encircling the barren

yet enticing but repulsive land

Who are they?

 

Children should be playing,

 

tossing pebbles,

 

running with waves of the inexhaustible sea

 

but the waters are empty.

 

 

 

Students should be leaning,

 

reading what is written,

 

studying about the forbidden reality,

 

but there is nobody at school.

 

 

 

Farmers should be earning,

 

selling their yields and harvests,

 

pricing survival with the power of money,

 

but I see no one in the sidewalk.

 

 

 

Wives should be calmly sleeping,

 

resting after finishing the tiring chores,

 

waiting for their husbands’ arrival,

 

but there isn’t anyone at home

 

 

 

Where has everyone gone?

 

Maguindanao is supposed to be

 

For every child

 

who wants to play freely;

 

For every student

 

who tries to justify wisdom;

 

For every farmer

 

who is dying to earn for a living;

 

For every wife

 

who patiently waits for her husband

 

 

 

This place shouldn’t be

 

for those big men in camouflage,

 

and leather-look boot covers,

 

with hanging guns and bombs,

 

topped with little arrogance on their faces.

 

 

 

It ought to be for the Maguinadaoans.

 

Maguindanao must be for the Maguindanaoans.

 

Maguindanao is not for the martials.

 

 ang TuLAng iTo ay nAgkAMiT ng pArangaL sA GAWAD EMMANUEL LACABA poetry wriTing EngLish n0ong ikA-16 ng DisyEmbre..iTo Lng ang Tanging akdA nA nAkapAsa sA mgA kriTiko ng CEGP..snA TumAgos ang mEnsAhE niTo sA bwAT mAmbAbasa..

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