I’m tired of this shithouse of a country:
its coddling with thieves and tyrants, its short memory,
its naïveté, its misplaced forgiveness.
I got one hand on Google, mousing
over “immigrant jobs in X country”
and another grasping my daughter’s words,
like a beaded rosary that night as I wept
on the floor curved like a fetus.
“We will fight, right, Mama?”
Sometimes it’s her holding the towel, ready
to throw it in the ring. My mind guides my hand
away from the keyboard, toward pen and paper.
Rage is fuel
for justice. We stay to fight.
We stay for love.
For a glimpse of moonlight peeking
through dark cabinets where we hide
our monsters. So maybe someday
when all of us see the same glint and force
ourselves out into the hard-won streets of victory, I can tell her,
“See? It was worth it.
We did it.”
This was first published in Philippines Graphic’s January 2024 Issue. It was the recipient of a Nick Joaquin Salute Award.
