I am a canvas of my experiences, my story is etched in lines and shading, and you can read it on my arms, my legs, my shoulders, and my stomach. ― Kat Von D
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IMAGINE NATION
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IMAGINE
NATION vol. 109 no. 4
IMAGINE NATION is the official Literary Folio of The Central Echo. Works that appear in this book may contain themes and topics some may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised. All rights reserved. Copyright reverts to the respective authors, photographers, and artists whose works appear in this issue. No portion of this book may be reproduced without consent from The Central Echo. Printed in Iloilo City, Philippines by MAKINAUGA LINGON PRINTER AND BOOKBINDER
251 Lopez Jaena St., Baluarte, Molo, Iloilo City, Iloilo 5000
Cover by
K AT H L E E N F R U GA L I DA D & J O H N D AV I D M A Z A
Layout by
F R A N C I S M AT H E W GA P P E
IMAGINE
NATION 2
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34 point Three d a z e n d aw n l a R I z a
37 Tusok sa Braso onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
38 palatitikan ng mga Sambitla 27
d a z e n d aw n l a R I z a
Traces of a lost Boy R ac h e l B eat I z u l a
39 uulan 28
a p R I l ca I t l I n da d I Ba lo s
Constant Turmoil RodjIe peRucho
42 Bilibid K a R R e n j ay a s g a R
Hanggang... dito na lang F R a n c I s m at h e w ga p p e
43 Spirited Away 29
K a la n I e s a l da j e n o
Nights Before, Mornings After K a la n I e s a l da j e n o
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likha K a R R e n j ay a s g a R
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Maskara R ya n d av e p o R a l
The Writer and His Versus onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
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lighthouse a m I da l la h m a e m a R q u e z
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Have You Ever Imagined? c e R a a n g e ly R I z a R d o
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Why I write y u s I m ay h a B l a d o
Finally c o l e e n c a s a n o va
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The Jailbreaker’s Wish onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
63 My Body is a Canvas aRIel loRenz castRonuevo
Ompasis v I n c e F R a n c I s g a B awa
65 Gunita F R a n c I s m at h e w ga p p e
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I did not kill Eunioa c e R a a n g e ly R I z a R d o
67 Eyes on me c o l e e n c a s a n o va
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Bloom y u s I m ay h a B l a d o
69 Jellyfish Scars d a z e n d aw n l a R I z a
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More jesyl chaRmIl Balleza
70 Asta San-o? a les t e R j o h n ga l la R da
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Adventure of pure Imagination R ac h e l B eat I z u l a
73 Ang Trahedya sa limang
Buhay ni Fidel onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
Illustrations by B e j a y s o n g c o g
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p R O l O G u E
In the midst of chaos, I finally found peace. Silently slithering through their skin was challenging as I braced myself to emerge from the void of unknown. What will I look this time? An angel? A dragon? Yet my image could only be decided by my creator and my bearer with the sword carving into pores and flesh. If only I could decide to be who I wanted to be and emerge on my own. I want to break free from the judgemental eyes of those who could not decipher my real purpose. They label me as a mark of regret, sadness, and unfortunate events with darting eyes and murmurs to complete the critique. Now, I bleed through the flesh of reality, with dark and light colors, showing that I am here to express my existence and be who I must be. I will let them call me whatever they want, as long as I serve my creator’s purpose. I am a symbol of love, hope, and at the same time chaos and war. I am loved by whoever wears me everywhere with a proud heart; I am an emblem of someone’s reality. Permanent or not; colorful or not. I will let you judge me, but I will never let you judge my purpose; I am free and inevitable, and you are?
zhaRIna maRIe stephanIe lugo
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Someday we will meet,
in a world
far away from here
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Dibuho ni j o h n p e l B a ñ a R e s
Just crossed my mind The swirls of black, I felt them sting. My skin is swollen from the needle pierced through my skin. My friend asked, “Did you know removing that, is no easy task?” He saw my face and asked again, “Why?” I smiled a sheepish smile. “Just crossed my mind.”
c o l e e n c a s a n o va
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Illustration by B e j a y s o n g c o g
Reyna Helena, Kung saan ka man ngayon, palakpakan mo ang sarili mo dahil tama ka. Mamamatay ako. Hindi ako rehiliyoso ngunit sa mga sandaling parang naririnig ko ang karwahe ni Kamatayan, nais kong maniwala sa Diyos para lumanghap ng kaunting lasap ng pag-asa. Pero, kung maniniwala ako sa Diyos kailangan ko ring tanggapin na mayroong langit at impyerno at buhay pagkatapos ng mortal na kamatayan at Magdalenang sawimpalad, ayoko. Di ba sapat na kalbaryo ang buhay sa bulok na mundong 'to? Mamamatay ako at hindi ko alam kung paano. Pwede sa engkwentro, pwede sa sakit. Kung papipiliin ako, sana mamamatay akong lumalaban. Walang umaawit sa mga nasawi sa sakit o sa gutom o sa naaksidente. Pwedeng mamatay nang may natitira pang bahid ng katapangan sa engkwentro o pwede rin habang kumakalam ang tiyan at parang masusuka ang sikmura sa sobrang hapdi. Pwede naman unti-unting pagtuyo ng dugo dahil may mga lamok at pesteng mas matapang na paslangin ako kesa sa mga sundalo ng gobyerno. Hindi naman sigurong masama na matumba ng lamok tulad ni Jacinto o Alexander the Great. Walang umaawit sa banayad mamatay. Hiling ko na mabuhay ka nang matagal at kung magmahal ka ng iba ay sana huwag mong kalimutan ang estupidong 'to. Hiling kong lumangoy sa asul na dagat at habang palutang-lutang ay tumingala sa asul na langit. Hiling kong maging 19 taong gulang ulit kung kailan matamis ang iyong mga labi habang sa ilalim ng mga puno at umaawit ang mga kuliglig. Hiling ko na kumain ng lumpia't suka at softdrink kay Aling Linda habang may kuwentong barbero ang barkada. Hiling ko na lumakad sa kalsada nang hindi dinadampot. Ngunit wala ng lugar ngayon para sa mga hiling, ‘di ba? Sinusulat ko 'to habang naghihintay sa sundo kong si Kamatayan at may iisa lang akong gusto pero parang mailap na bituin ang kagustuhang ito. Sana naman kung uuwi ako sa mga kapatid ko, ay may bangkay na itatabi sa nanay at tatay ko. At kung walang bangkay na darating bukas o magpakailanman, sinta, alam mo na ang aking tadhana.
Sa iyo, mula kahapon hanggang sa dulo ng panahon, Emmanuel
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I m a g I n e
n a t I o n
Somewhere beyond pain,
broken promises and lies
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Dibuho ni
john pel BaĂąaRes
Maskara Sa likod ng mga ngiti, sakit at pighati Dala ang nagdurugong hapdi Sa mga pinagsisihang pagkakamali. Sa likod ng maamong mukha Malulungkot na alaala nagbabadya. Silayan mo ang kumikislap niyang mga mata Puno ng lungkot, “bakit kaya?” Sa likod ng pusong mapagmahal Bakas ang sakit ng nakaraan Na nahilom matapos dumaan ang ilang buwan At naahon nang mapatawad ang kamalian.
R ya n d av e p o R a l
The Writer and His Versus Every dot I spot, a curse. Every word I mark, a bud. The world of fear I trod, Marred, and in scorn immersed. In silent mutiny, I prayed. “O heaven, why not speak?” In search, I, the rebel kneeled. “Kindly grant the sign I seek.” From tyranny, “I am free at last!” Did the despot pull his shot? No pen but blood and eyes in shut. Beat stops, the wordsmith is free at last!
onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
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I m a g I n e
n a t I o n
Tusok sa Braso Sa ’yong mga malalamyang diin, Sa mangha, mga mata’y tirik pa rin. Pawisa’t hingal napatili sa saliw ng aray. Malambot na braso, ngawit sa ngalay. Kalakip ng wangis mong kaakit-akit, Pangamba’t kutya pala ang hatid. Sa paglubog ng aking araw ay dala, Mainit na pabaon ng madaliang pasya. O tusok, kung akin lang sanang nabatid Na ang maindayog mong kirot, Ang sa hininga ko’y mag-uudlot, Sana sayo’y di nahilig—di nanabik.
onesIFoRo BeRIna, jR.
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Dibuho ni
justIn ma RK gamBa
With someone beside me,
to gaze up the night sky
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Illustration by j o h n p e l B a Ăą a R e s
My Body is a Canvas aRIel loRenz castRonuevo
Streaks of sunlight penetrate my windows as the cool breeze flaps my curtains. Just a few knocks on the door and I wake up and stretch my limbs as far as I can while my mother says “Rise and shine, sweetie.” I look at myself in the mirror―routinely, every day―with the brightest smile. Being homeschooled during my early years, no one is as excited as I am knowing I’m on my way to school for the first time. “I’m gonna make so many friends today, Mom! You’ll see,” I say ecstatically while holding my mother’s soft hand. “For a good boy like you, I’m sure they’d be very pleased to be you friend,” my mom assures me, pinching my cheeks. Mom introduces me to my teacher and I immediately greet them. She proceeds to introduce me to the class, emphasizing that they should be nice to me. I could hear distinct whispers and chit-chat across the room. I hug my mom goodbye and the teacher leads me to my seat. The school has a metal-supported wooded chair and mine creaks if I lean back too much.
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I m a g I n e
n a t I o n
I hear crumpling paper a second before I realize it is thrown in my face. I try to open it but realize it is no use. They are giggling at the left side of the classroom, and so those at the right side. I could hear every word they say, but it is all new to me; I never understand what they mean. The class ends and my classmates are quite on the rush, so much so that their back packs are swinging all around me, hitting my shoulders. After everyone goes home, I wait for my mom to pick me up by the classroom’s door. She lifts me up and asks me how my day went. “Mom, what’s a N _ _ _ _ _?” I ask her. She takes a deep breath and runs her hand across my hair. “I was afraid they would say that.” My mom tsks shaking her head in disappointment. “I’ll explain it to you when we get home, baby,” she says as she plays with my hand. At home, my mother tells me everything I have to know, I realize there are advantages to my disadvantages. I begged my mother to let me look at myself in the mirror every day. I grew up never needing her to bang on my door just to wake me up because I had sensitive ears. As bright as sunshine can be, I could only hear the melody of chirping birds and feel the wisps of morning air as they caress my face. Anything but light and color entered the windows to my soul.
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Jellyfish Scars You never expected it The searing pain The wounds that didn’t bleed The feel of a thousand needles Piercing deeper and deeper still What came worse was the aftermath The months of agony The sleepless nights Flashbacks of how it happened Making sure you never forget The strong painful grasp Tightly wrapping around your skin How you felt paralyzed And felt nothing and everything You swore you never saw it coming It was safe, you thought, it was peace But before storms things are calm It was the calm before your silent screams And the dark marks left permanent scars Like spirals on your skin Always there, never gone But you keep coming back Again and again.
d a z e n d aw n l a R I z a
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Illustration by B e j a y s o n g c o g
Somehow it will come true,
even if it is only me without you
Alimango Naghintay ang bata sa dalampasigan ng Limbo, Para sa amang nangako ng alimango. Mga alo’y ‘di mapakali, ang bata’y naluha, Ang alimango’y nakawala – ang bangka. Namintog ang tiyan, natulala, Sa ilalim ng mapanlait na kislap ng mga tala, Kumupas na ang kulay sa pika ng alimango, Nababad sa init ng gabi, ang bata’y nalito. ‘Di mapunan ang tapayang walang laman, Tila gatilyong nanananghod sa bulok na palaman, Natirikan nang bayan, ang mga bubong sa Limbo, Patuloy pa rin ang paghihintay ng bata sa dalampasigan. Sa ‘di kalayuan, ang lantsa’y nasilayan, Nagalak ang paslit, sigla’y nanumbalik. Mga bakas ng pagod at luha, matamis na bunga ng pananabik, Sa lilang mukha, naglaho sa huling tikatik. Naghintay ang bata sa dalampasigan ng Limbo, Para sa amang nangako ng alimango, Mga alo’y di mapakali, ang bata’y naluha, Ang alimango’y nakawala – ang bata.
a les t e R j o h n ga l la R da
I m a g I n e
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Dibuho ni j o h n p e l B a ñ a R e s
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Illustration by p R I n c e R I c e m m a n u e l p a c I e n t e
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E p I l O G u E
I remember walking on a dark alley, no destination in mind. I have no idea why my feet brought me here again. I think it’s time to pay HIM another visit. He makes art but not art displayed on walls and galleries. It is a more permanent kind of art—a literal personal statement. His tools include flesh, needles, ink, and pain. His muses are memories, pride, and nostalgia. A writer, a doctor, an artist fused into one: a modern day bard. He uses his instruments of health to injure and heal his unblemished patients with scars. He writes diaries on flesh, on his client’s behalf. He paints with pain, yet his paintings give his clients serenity. My body is one of his greatest masterpieces. My flesh a living diary, tattoos serving as ink. My story is written all over my skin, my poetry on these pages. The images, vivid and bright are my reality with scattered fragments of fantasy. Tonight another one of my precious memories will be immortalized. I wonder, what it’ll be? I have marked my body with ink, pain, untold memories, and careless abandon. Now I am a walking museum, of my life’s work for all to see. So take time to read my story and understand each chapter. They show how I lived.
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Words by K a l a n I e s a l d a j e n o
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