MALATE LITERARY FOLIO Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2 Karapatang-ari Š 2020
A
ng Malate Literary Folio ang opisyal na publikasyon ng sining at panitikan ng Pamantasang De La Salle - Manila, sa ilalim ng awtoridad ng Student Media Office (SMO). Ang mga komento at mungkahi ay maaaring ipahatid sa:
E-mail address: mlf@dlsu.edu.ph Website: issuu.com/malatelitfolio Facebook: fb.com/malateliteraryfolio Twitter: @malatelitfolio Instagram: @malatelitfolio 503-Media House, Bro. Connon Hall, De La Salle University-Manila, 2401 Taft Avenue, Malate, Manila.
Nananatili sa indibidwal na may-akda o may-dibuho ang karapatangari ng bawat piyesang ipinalimbag dito. Hindi maaaring ipalathala muli o gamitin sa anumang paraan ang alin man sa mga nilalaman nang walang karampatang pahintulot ng may-akda o may-dibuho Ang tomong ito ay hindi ipinagbibili. Ang pabalat ay likha ni Kyle Noel Ibarra Ang layout ng folio ay disenyo ni Adia Pauline Lim
MALATE LITERARY LITERARY FOLIO MALATE FOLIO
TOMO XXXVI BILANG 2
OKTUBRE 2020
3
TOMO XXXVI
BILANG 2
pa ni mu la
INTRODUKSIYON
W
e move as the world does. Seasons change and people grow. We lay down our roots where we see possibility and flourish under conditions that urge us to move forward, to spring forth from where we stand and bloom. The inevitability of time is accompanied by the certainty of change. The world itself undergoes a process of transformation. One moment, the clouds open up and the heat of the sun meets the earth in its full capacity. The next, the skies darken, and rain starts to pour relentlessly. Our roots are disturbed by these extremities, causing us to question if the possibility of growth still exists. This is a cycle that remains unchanging. What matters is whether we will continue to persist. Will we stand firm and endure or wither away? Is it us who moves with the world or is it the world that pushes us to change? In this issue of Malate Literary Folio, let us lay down our roots and look towards the sky. We invite our readers to stand in the face of certainty and persist despite difficulty, to spring forth from where they’re stood and bloom.
PAULA BIANCA MARAĂ‘A Punong Patnugot i
ni la Nilalaman la ma n Introduksiyon
Prosa A Certain Disquietude Lynette Marie Ang
This Appointment Jared Rivera
i
4 12
Cat Querix Keershyne Rose Recalde Isang Gabi Maria Gabrielle Galang Bloom Cathleen Jane Madrid
21
Against the Sea Nikki Elisha Elquiero
44
Alas sais ng umaga Juliah Faye Dela Vega
2
Zero Sum Moses Isaiah Ojera
15
Tila Tali Ninian Patrick Sayoc
18
23 31
Tula
Candlelight Lorenzo Manuel Villaluna
53
Susanoo Francis D’Angelo Mina
54
Genesis Ana Angeli Atok
65
Retrato
Stroke of the Camera Isabella Alexandra Bernal
19
Sink or Swim Sean Xavier Nieva
22
Lazy Afternoon Therese Diane Villanueva
30
Facet Therese Diane Villanueva
36
/OVERLOAD/ Benedict Lim
39
64
Salubungin ang Araw Nigelle Jorgia Louise Lim
Sining
Sa Mata ng Realidad Jamie Shekinah Mapa
1
Taking Alms Bea Mira So
3
Meet Me Halfway Arvir Jane Redondo
13
Bloom Matthew Rafael Florendo
34
Based Off Looks Adair Nevan Holgado
35
Sickolo Adair Nevan Holgado
37
Online Learning Elijah Nicolas Ferrera
41
A Sleepless Night’s Unrest Elijah Nicolas Ferrera
42
Tumingala, Tumindig Jamie Shekinah MapaÂ
43
Pasasalamat iv
x
v
PATNUGUTAN Paula Bianca Maraña Punong Patnugot Querix Keershyne Recalde Tagapamahalang Patnugot
MGA SENYOR NA PATNUGOT Maria Gabrielle Galang Philippe Bernard Cabal
Francis D’Angelo Mina Patnugot ng Prosa Christine Autor Patnugot ng Tula Cielo Marie Vicencio Patnugot ng Sining Kyle Noel Ibarra Patnugot ng Retrato Chaunne-Ira Masongsong Tagapamahala ng Marketing at Events Van Rien Jude Espiritu Tagapamahala ng Pagmamay-ari Adia Pauline Lim Tagapamahala ng Layout
vi
vi
Cheyenne Grace Espiritu Ninian Patrick Sayoc Beatrice Julia Triñanes Armando Miguel Valdes
MGA TAGAPAYO Dr. Mesandel Arguelles Mr. Vijae Alquisola
STUDENT MEDIA OFFICE Franz Louise Santos Director Jeanne Marie Tan Coordinator Ma. Manuela Agdeppa SECRETARY
Prosa Mary Joy Abalos
Tula Ana Angeli Atok
Lynette Marie Ang
Claire Madison Chua
Jeremy Dale Coronia
Adrian Neil Holgado
Allysa Nicole DequiĂąo
Moses Isaiah Ojera
Nikki Elisha Elquiero
Christian Paculanan
Daniel Ricardo Evangelista
Vince Gerard Victoria
Jihan Marie Ferrer
Christian Jeo Talaguit
Cathleen Jane Madrid Cris Marriel Nabayo Guion Lorenzo Castro
Sining Francesca Therese Baltasar Pablo Mulawin Casanova Marinel Angeline Dizon Elijah Nicolas Ferrera Matthew Rafael Florendo Kathleen Nicole Garay
KA SA PI
Ryann Ting Juliah Faye Dela Vega Lorenzo Manuel Villaluna
Retrato Isabella Alexandra Bernal Alexander Flores Benedict Lim Nigelle Jorgia Lousie Lim Sean Xavier Nieva Brandon Kyle Pecson
Adair Nevan Holgado
JosĂŠ Isabel Rea
Phoebe Danielle Joco
Therese Diane Villanueva
Jamie Shekinah Mapa Thea Enrica Ongchua Bea Mira So Dana Beatrice Tan
Marketing & Events Elijah Barongan Jan Magcaling Arvir Jane Redondo Isabella Tuason
k a a s pi
Dominique Yap
vii
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
3 4 t h A wa r d s
viii
for
L i t e r at u r e
Malate Literary Folio
9 t h A w TOMO a r d s fXXXVI o r V i s u al A r t s BILANG 2
ix
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
JAMIE SHEKINAH MAPA
Sa Mata ng Realidad digital art
1
Malate Literary Folio
JULIAH FAYE DELA VEGA
Alas sais ng Umaga Alas sais pa lang ay ginigising na ‘ko, hindi pa nakadilat ang mga mata. Maririnig ang ugong ng tren at dyip na pawang nasa loob ng aking silid kung mag-ingay. May naririnig din na padyak ng mga paa, tunog ay iba-iba. Karamihan ay mga sapatos na kumakaripas, tila naguunahan, tumatakbo sa mataas naming hagdan. May mga patusok ding nagrarampahan sa sala. Saka ako dumungaw sa salaming naghahati sa kusina’t kwarto. May bisitang nakaupo, kumakain na ng siopao at cup noodles na umuusok pa sa init. Panigurado, alok ito ng katulong naming nakapulang uniporme, may ukit na numerong pito sa kanyang dibdib at sa suot niyang sumbrero. Wiling-wili niyang pinapasok ang iba ko pang mga kaibigang sabik makapagkape o tumambay sa mga silyang kanyang kalilinis lamang. Kaya nama’y kanina pa niya sinisipa-sipa ang likod ko. Pilit na pinapabangon mula sa higaan kong karton. Subalit, hinehele pa ako ng lamig ng umaga.
2
BEA MIRA SO
Taking Alms digital art
3
LYNETTE MARIE ANG
A Certain Disquietude
4
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
Cabin Fever There are days where I feel like I’m about to regurgitate all my internal organs into the floor. Sometimes they speak to me, telling me of phantom liver pains and potential kidney failure, materializing in tense coughs and dry heaving as if there are colonies of viral matter invading my very cells’ machineries at that very moment. Tense, frantic hands reaching for my smartphone, opening the calendar app with my thumb and counting the days since I was last outside then comparing it to the length of the viral gestation period. When could I have been exposed? Other days it’s a tumor inside my brain that’s bound to explode one day, probably render my entire head an ugly, bloody, fleshy mass scattered all over. I imagine my family coming into my room one day, my prone dead body on the ground; my eyes still open, with bits of bone and hair and brain matter stuck to the white plaster of my room. Red splashed grotesquely against a clear bone canvas. I imagine my mom would scream and my dad would probably put his hand to his mouth, recoiling in horror. My siblings would probably just stare at my dead body and the carnage in shock, unmoving, their mouths dry and their lungs constricted. Or maybe there’s really nothing wrong with me. All good in the hood! Just a bit of cabin fever, is all.
5
A Certain Disquietude
Isolation I currently live in two states: neutral-despair or neutralhappiness. Neutral-despair is usually characterized by that leaden weight that starts in my esophagus and makes its way down to the pit of my stomach, where it stays for the rest of the day. Growing stronger or weaker depending on the happenings during the ensuing hours. Usually it would start as a strange feeling the moment I wake up from yet another one of my vivid dreams, which I keep having since the start of this lockdown, leftover terror or confusion from my slumbering brain. It would get washed away momentarily during breakfast, once I’ve had my morning coffee (brewed, ¼ milk, packet of Splenda) then return after my shower after reading some dire, miserable piece of news. Sometimes it wholly dissipates though, but only occasionally, during lunch if I particularly like the food being served. Neutral-happiness, on the other hand, is like neutral-despair but instead of that leaden weight, there is only the billowing lightness, usually similar to the buzz I get after drinking enough alcohol, that inbetween vomit-tipsiness and not-drunk-at-all state. Staying neutralhappy could become a challenge during the day however, with all the sadness and darkness that currently surrounds our world like some massive nimbus cloud, grey and ominous. And a lot of things could happen to bring me down from this state, like someone uttering what sounded mildly like an insult with regards to something I care about or finding a thicker-than-usual clump of hair lodged in the shower drain post-morning bath. All in all, there’s really not much difference between these two moods. It’s just that in one of them I tend to experience a wider range of emotions, rather than just a grey and black feeling. God I really wish I could go outside.
6
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
Dark It’s 12am and I am in my bathroom. A pair of dark eyes rimmed with even darker circles stares back at me through a large, rectangular mirror. Sometimes my reflection seems to take a life of its own, moving and shifting on its own accord. I touch a tentative hand to the mirror and its surface yields, like that of a basin of water when you submerge your hand in it. I blink a couple of times in shock. I don’t know if I’ve lost my mind. I reach in deeper until I’m elbow-deep in the mirror-surface, trying to feel for what’s on the other side. With my curiosity getting the better of me, I climb over the bathroom counter and ‘enter’ through the mirror-surface. Once I am on the other side I look around. There is nothing but a cold, empty void. I stand there for a few moments, just looking around the vacuous darkness. The floor seemed to be made of asphalt, with its rough, hard surface. There was also the strange dull, rumbling sound of machinery somewhere in the distance that seemed to grow in volume and intensity. A pair of headlights flashed at me from behind. I turn around and see an eighteen-wheeler truck rumbling towards me. With a jolt, I suddenly realize I’m standing on some kind of highway. For a moment, I think I see cars whip around me at what seemed to be lightning-fast speeds, displacing the surrounding air. The truck rumbles closer and closer, honking its thunderous horn but I cannot move. Somehow, my feet had buried itself into the tar, rooting me to the spot. The truck draws ever nearer. I have no choice but to shut my eyes tight, upper eyelid wound tight against lower eyelid and brace for the impending impact of pure blunt-force pain and guts disengaging from the fleshy confines of my person. But it never comes. I open my eyes once more and I am back in my bathroom, palm pressed against the solid glass surface of the mirror. 7
I look at the mirror but I don’t see myself anymore.
A Certain Disquietude
Chasm There is a big, dark chasm. And I am falling through it. I do not know how I fell into the chasm. Just that I am falling through it. There is nothing around me, just whirling, speeding darkness as I fall. Ixw long I’ve been falling, just that I am. The hole from where I supposedly fell from is but a small dot of light in the distance, which I presume is ‘up’. But direction has ceased to matter in this dark void. I do not anymore care if I am falling upward or downward, just that I am falling and there’s a gravity-like force pulling (or is it pushing) at me. At some point, I start to feel tired. So I close my eyes because that’s what people usually do when they feel tired. They close their eyes and go to sleep. So I do that. And once I do, I feel the sensation of a big spike going through my midsection and finally I stop falling. I feel blood spurt out from where I’ve been impaled and my innards shift around with bits of them falling out as they make room for the huge spike. I open my eyes and all I can see is my body pitted on a spike. There seems to be around a hundred more spikes around me, probably thousands, all close together, extending in all directions towards the infinite darkness. It takes a few seconds before the shock wears off and the pain of being impaled starts to set in. The sudden, sharp sting of the pain is a jolt to the senses. It is allencompassing and never-ending. Without consciously willing it, I scream. And then I wake up. And I am falling again. Same surrounding darkness. Same windy sensation tickling the small hairs on my arms and legs. Then the familiar fatigue sets in again and I close my eyes, only to be speared once more by a similar (or was it the same) spike. Innards and bodily fluids splatter and gush, droplets of them landing on my face and my mouth as I scream again, the salty-tangy taste of insides coating my lips. Then I wake up again. And it repeats. Falling-spike-falling-spikefalling. Or was it spike-falling-spike-falling? No end in sight. No escape. 8
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
Post-Anthropocene Approximately 4.6 billion years ago, something strange happened. A planet we now call Earth formed. Back then, it looked like a big molten, spherical rock pockmarked with impact craters from thousands of space debris and asteroids accosting it constantly. No water, no air, no life. It took around 600 million more years, give or take, for it to cool and support the earliest forms of life that evolved for billions of years until one day, there was us. Humans. Bipedal with big pink mushy masses of flesh encased in skulls made of calcium carbonate. This same big pink mushy mass of flesh is what governs our every bodily function, voluntary or otherwise. It’s what made us come up with things like cars and factories and mass production. Right now, at this very moment, there are about 7.8 billion people living on Earth, a writhing mass of bodies breathing and sleeping and eating and fucking and making more people under an atmosphere that grows more and more poisonous with every second that passes. They say that our species have left such an indelible mark on this planet that if we were to go extinct right now and some aliens landed here maybe thousands or millions of years from now they would undoubtedly know just how bad we fucked the Earth up with our endless cycle of consumption and pollution and general lack of preservation. I wonder, though, if they’ll also come to know how a single RNA strand encased in a protein-lipid chamber drove us to hide, like cavemen running from big, ravenous felines of old. I imagine those aliens walking by, long after we’ve gone, examining the ruins surrounding them. An empire of dirt and rubble, corpses of concrete-and-steel megastructures and roads. Would they perhaps just glide on air like we do or would they have feet like we do? Or would they ruminate on how our pointless struggle towards perfection ruined us so completely as they step over my crushed skull?
9
10
Kontribyutor JARED RIVERA Jared Rivera is a recent graduate from De la Salle University Manila and is a current alumni of Malate Literary Folio. From 2018 - 2019, he applied and was appointed the positions of Prose Editor and Managing Editor of Malate. His writings are often influenced by absurdist exaggerations of various mundane events in his life. He adores literature and its many ways of packaging emotion and humanity for so many to experience. At present, he is working as a Software Engineer, and despite his close contact with a keyboard, he feels most alive when pouring out his heart through a pencil and paper.
Malate Literary Folio
JARED RIVERA
This Appointment
T
he mosquito smacks lips as it sips and lisps comforts inaudible like: “don’t worry if it’s Dengue”, “we’ll know in a week”, and “I will take your blood now“. But in a week, your pulsing headache will agree— YES—with every bullet—YES—your eyes ache from watching it drink—YES—your blood bakes underneath your—YES—skin feels incomplete from boreholes and red lumps and—YES—your joints allow paralysis is—YES—permission for more blood.
Get dizzy—drink water. Feel fine. Feel better. Feel great!
Feel it move from cell to cell and circulate at speeds only known to be supersonic as your mind tunes into the bullets and small schizophrenic circles on screens that shout—YES—don’t worry—YES—if it’s Dengue—YES—we’ll know—YES—in a week—YES—your platelets will fall—YES—in a week—YES—along with your white blood cells— YES—in a week you’re next in line—YES—and better qualified— YES—mosquitoes will take your blood now—YES—and smack lips in gossip for each drop—YES—that drips—YES—in time—YES— to your every—YES—thought. If it’s Dengue.
12
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
ARVIR JANE REDONDO
Meet Me Halfway digital art 13
Malate Literary Folio
14
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
MOSES ISAIAH OJERA
Zero Sum my brother’s muffled cries at the other end of the line has brought me to a hospital where he has been waiting i make my way inside to be greeted by a cold breeze from the air conditioning; almost wintry, void of heat. i rub my forearms as it is the only sufficient way against it my heartbeat is a deafening bass; i feel it plummet each time my foot strikes the floor. it resonates through my ears as i pursue my mother’s ward. it seems so far, as if going on an adventure with no thrill every minute spent was another moment wasted. i have to get there faster
15
Zero Sum
i have no other choice. prayers escape my lips; words no longer hollow than usual. its familiarity a reminder of my dead faith. i make a bargain with an old friend — i will surrender all of me in exchange for her to stay longer my time is running out. tears start to well in my eyes; my last resort being an unfair exchange. i can only hope it will be granted in favor of my selfish pursuits. i can only wish i will win this round i finally arrive. i spot my father standing right where i need to be. his hug and his cries are all i need to know my tears fall, as it is inevitable. i am a few hours too late.1
ze·ro-sum /ˈˌzirōˈsəm/ (adj.) relating to or denoting a situation in which whatever is gained by one side is lost by the other. 16
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
17
Malate Literary Folio
NINIAN PATRICK SAYOC
Tila Tali ang takureng patuloy na umiinit ngunit hindi nakikita ang pagkulo, inaabangan kung kailan aalisin sa kalan, hanggang puwede nang ihinto ang pag-iinit: ang unang sipol ng takure—sa isip palagi’y nakaipit.
18
ISABELLA ALEXANDRA BERNAL
Stroke of the Camera
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
QUERIX KEERSHYNE ROSE RECALDE
Cat
I
feel like the only thing keeping me sane is the cat peacefully sleeping on my bedroom floor.
The days feel longer now. I spend most of it in a routine I convincingly call ‘living’. Mundane stuff, really. Making sure I pace around my room a couple of times, preparing single helpings of meals, and fiddling with my phone that’s as silent as my door that no one bothers coming in and out of. At night, my dim room feels icy. My whole body feels numb, suspended, almost paralyzed. It’s cold enough that I have to muster enough strength to sit up, the struggle almost similar to swimming in a pool of iced water. Though instead of water, it’s your cold hard thoughts drowning you bit by bit. Slowly, surely. In hard attempt to regulate my breathing, I pattern it to the light rising and lowering of the cat’s fat belly. He’s not even mine. Just a friend’s who had a family in the province to go home to. I’m thankful it’s here, nonetheless. Caring for it keeps me grounded. Feeling suffocated, I step out to the balcony. I sit and feel the wind. Again, still, cold. My eyes fix on the blinking light of my neighbor’s Christmas decor, mouth puffing out cigarette smoke, and thoughts flying higher than 30 floors up the building I call home. I always say the peaceful silence nights like these bring help. Until it doesn’t. Until it screams at me for being alone. Suddenly, I hear faint meowing from the other side of the door, snapping me out of it, reminding me I was not this time. If I give in to the pull of gravity from the ledge I’m resting on, who will feed the cat then?
21
Malate Literary Folio
SEAN XAVIER NIEVA
Sink or Swim 22
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
MARIA GABRIELLE GALANG
Isang Gabi
“E, kung itigil na lang natin ‘to.” Hindi na ako nakipagtalo. Gusto ko na rin namang tapusin ‘to— itong relasyon, o kung ano man na meron kami. Matagal-tagal ko na ring naisip ‘yung nasa isip niya ngayon. Pangatlong taon na ‘to ng pagsasama namin. Kahit noong simula pa lang, naisip ko nang itigil ito. Pero hindi rin ako sumagot. Hindi na muna ako nagsalita. Hindi ko muna siya binalikan sa sinabi niya. Sa halip, sinindihan ko na ang huli kong yosi para sa gabi. Pwede pa naman akong bumili mamaya, kaso iniisip ko pa lang, napapagod na ako. Isang trike pa ang sasakyan ko makarating lang sa pinakamalapit na 7-Eleven. “Tama na, ‘yan,” paalala niya sa akin. Sinabi kong panghuli ko na ‘yon. Pinakita ko sa kanyang wala nang laman ang kahon ng Marlboro. Tumango na lang siya sa akin at saka umikot sa kama para makahiga ng maayos. Hindi na rin siya nagatubiling balutan muna ng kumot ang kanyang katawan. Iniiwasan niya ang usok mula sa ‘king bibig, kaya hindi niya ako 23
Isang Gabi
tinapatan ng titig. Kahit na kaharap ko rin naman siya, idinidirekta ko ang pagbuga ng usok sa bintana. Respeto ko na rin sa mga opinyon niya sa buhay. Mabuti nga ngayon at nagagawa ko na ‘to sa harapan niya. Madalas kaming mag-away noon dahil sa bisyo; mas strikto pa nga siya kaysa kay Papa. Si Papa, kinalaunan, nasanay na sa akin, hinayaan na lang ako. Sa kanya, kahit tumikim lang ako ng alak o sa oras na sindihan ko ang stick ng yosi, mag-iinit na ang ulo niya. Isang buong gabi kaming magkahiwalay na natutulog sa tuwing magaganap iyon. “Tama na ‘yan.” Tinapon ko sa labas ang natira sa sigarilyo at sinarado ang bintana. Binuksan ko ulit ang aircon bago dumiretso sa banyo. Tiningnan ko nang mabuti ang sarili ko sa banyo. Para akong ‘di natulog ng isang buong taon—lubog ang mata, lubog ang mukha, magulong nakatali ang buhok. Naghilamos muna ako para magising nang kaunti. Mariin kong hinugasan ang daliri ko at nagmumog na rin ng mouthwash bago bumalik sa kama. Alam kong di niya ako yayakapin at hahalikan kung amoy at lasa akong mapait na tira-tira ng yosi. Nakahiga pa rin siya sa kama nang bumalik ako sa kwarto. Tinabihan ko siya. Dumilat siya ulit at inikot ang katawan para humarap sa akin. Kinuwentuhan niya ako tungkol sa araw niya. Nakakapagod daw ngayon. Buong magdamag siyang nakatapat sa computer kakatingin ng sales ng kumpanya para sa term-end report nito. Kulang sila sa opisina na kahit na hindi naman ito parte ng trabaho niya ay ginagawa niya pa rin. OK lang naman daw sa kanya. Natapos niya na rin naman yung project niya sa linggong yun. At least, may trabaho pa rin siya. Sa totoo lang, hindi ko alam kung saan niya nakukuha yung sigla niya sa trabaho, sa pamilya, sa akin—sa buhay. Kung ako yung nagkwento, malamang puro reklamo ko na ang ikinuwento ko. Kesyo nakakapanghina makipag-usap sa maraming tao, kesyo OT nanaman. Siyempre magbibitaw din ako ng mga ‘pero gets ko rin naman kasi…’ o kaya ‘alam ko kung sa’n sila nanggagaling…’ at itutuloy ko ang 70 24
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
pagrereklamo ko. Ang mga papansinin niya ay ang mga pagdadrama ko sa buhay ko. Sasabihin niya, you’re being too hard on yourself. Kinuwento ko naman ang araw ko ngayon. Sabi ko, OK naman. Wala naman masyadong ganap. Gano’n pa rin. Tumango lang siya sa sinabi ko at saka hinalikan ang noo ko. Naamoy ko pa rin ang pabangong ginamit niya ngayong araw; tipikal na pabangong lalake na medyo nahaluan ng pawis. Nagkaroon ng panahon na nakalimutan ko ang amoy niya nang minsang magkalayo kami. Wala na akong nagawa kundi maghintay ng pagbalik niya para matandaan ‘to. Hindi ako sigurado kung ‘yun pa rin ba ang pabangong gamit niya ngayon. Tiningnan niya ako. Tiningnan ko rin siya. Gusto kong sabihin sa kanyang, tama na; ‘wag na nating saktan ang mga sarili natin. Hindi na ito tulad ng dati. Ngunit may kung ano man sa kanya na hindi ko mapigilang sumaya. Sa kaloob-looban ko, gusto ko pa rin siya at hindi ko magawang humiwalay sa kanya kahit pa wala na talaga ang dati naming pagtingin sa isa’t isa. O baka ako lang yun. Hindi ko rin alam. Iniwas ko na lang ang titig sa kanya at umupo’t sumandal sa ulunan ng kama. Gusto ko ulit ng yosi. “Sam…” Ginaya niya ako sa pagkakaupo sa kama. Hinawakan niya ang aking kamay at tumingin sa akin. Dahan-dahan akong lumingon sa direksyon niya. Siya pa rin ang lalaking minahal ko ng tatlong taon. Medyo magulo ang buhok, manipis ang labi, singkit ang mata. Malambot pa rin ang kanyang kamay. Natatandaan ko, noong mga panahong kinikilala pa lang namin ang isa’t isa, hinawakan niya ang aking kamay. Nabigla ako pero hindi rin naman ako bumitaw. Simula noon, halos araw-araw kong hiniling na sana mahawakan ko pa ng mas matagal ang kamay niya. Ngayon na ba kaya ang tamang panahon para bumitaw? Ano’ng sasabihin ko? Na hindi ko na kayang sumama sa kanya? “Carlo…” mahina kong sagot, “kung magpakasal kaya tayo.”
25
Isang Gabi
Matagal ko nang pangarap ang ikasal. Handa na ang puting damit na aking susuotin. Parang kay Mama, parang pang-prinsesa. Lace ang materyales para sa design sa ibabaw, medyo lantad ang balikat, kita ang hugis ng katawan hanggang sa palobo na halos ang damit sa bandang ilalim. Hindi naman mahirap na makuha ang damit na gusto ko para sa kasal ko—naandiyan pa rin naman nakatago sa bahay ang damit ni Mama noon. Baka pupwede na lang ipa-alter. Parang mas mahirap makapili ng taong makakasama ko habangbuhay. Hindi ko maitatanggi na sa isang punto sa buhay ko, akala ko siya na nga ang sasalubong sa akin sa harap ng altar. Iniisip ko pa lang, alam kong napakagandang lalaki ang naghihintay sa akin. Naka-Amerikana, naka-ayos ang buhok, at may ngiting nakakapagpawi ng kahit anong pangangambang nararamdaman ko. Tulad lang ngayong kaharap ko siya. Napakalawak ng ngiti niya. Mabilis niya akong hinalikan sa labi. “Nako, ‘wag mo ‘kong tatanungin niyan. Alam mong madali akong papayag diyan.” Tatlo. Tatlong anak ang napagdesisyunan namin noong minsang maghapon kaming nagkausap sa phone. Ang mahalaga ay may isang babae at isang lalake. Titira kami sa isang bahay na malapit-lapit sa siyudad. Tig-isang kwarto ang mga magiging anak namin. Sabi niya, siya raw ang magluluto ng almusal araw-araw. Ako naman ang maghahanda ng damit ng mga bata papuntang school. At saka namin sila ihahatid doon tapos pupunta sa sari-sariling opisina. Sigurado akong nakapaghanda rin siya ng baon para sa akin. Isinandal ko ang ulo ko sa balikat niya at huminga ng malalim. Napakatahimik ng gabi. Sa tutuusin, ang kalmado ng gabing ito. Pupwede kong gawing pang-hele ang kanyang kalkuladong paghinga at tibok ng puso. Sana nga, naging siya na lang talaga. “Anong nangyari sa atin?” Hindi ako nagatubiling halikan siya pabalik noong hinatid niya ako pauwi mula sa unang date namin. Natatandaan kong hiyang-hiya ako
26
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
dahil hindi ko alam kung ganoon niya na ba ako kagusto. Ang lakas ng tibok ng puso ko kaya kahit doon ay na-conscious ako kasi masyado na atang halata na gusto ko siya, baka narinig niya na ang malakas na kalabog ng puso ko. Ang tanging ilaw namin ay nanggagaling sa ilaw ng poste ng kapitbahay at ang ilaw sa may garahe ng bahay, pero nakita ko pa rin ang napakaganda niyang ngiti bago siya magpaalam. Sabi niya, bukas na lang ulit. Napakaraming bukas ang nagdaan, at araw-araw ay minahal ko siya. Kahit pa noong umalis siya ng bansa ng isang taon, hindi naglaho ang nararamdaman ko para sa kanya. Lagi kong inaabangan ang mga tawag niya, kahit na saglit ko lang marinig ang boses niya. Kahit pa ang mga walang kakwenta-kwentang banat niya sa akin sa chat, tuwang-tuwa na ako. Dahan-dahan niyang nilapit ang kamay ko sa labi niya at hinalikan ito. “Alam mong mahal kita, ‘di ba?” tanong niya habang malayo ang tingin sa akin. “At mahal din kita,” paninigurado ko sa kanya. Nararamdaman kong may bumabara sa lalamunan ko kasabay ng namumuong luha sa mata. Ayoko siyang harapin. Ayokong harapin ang bukas dahil alam kong wala na siya. Kailangan kong tanggaping magkaibang tao na kami. O baka hindi lang namin napag-aralang magkaiba talaga kami. Nagbulagbulagang angat ang pagmamahal namin sa pangangailangan sa buhay. Hindi na masustentuhan ng pagmamahal na ito ang pangarap namin para sa sarili, para sa iba. “Pero wala ka na.” Mabilis niyang tinanggal ang pagkakahawak sa kamay ko at niyakap ako nang mahigpit. At doon na nagtuloy-tuloy ang pagiyak ko. Ramdam ko ang kamay niya sa aking ulo, taas babang paggalaw sa aking buhok para patahanin ako. Ang kaso ay tuloy-tuloy lang ang pagbagasak nito. Laking ingat niyang bigkasin ang mga salitang: “Nandito lang ako.” Onting bahid na lang ng pabango niya ang naamoy ko kahit na ganito 27
Isang Gabi
pa kami kalapit. Niyakap ko na rin siya sa kanyang leeg, nang kumalmakalma na ako. Inayon ko ang katawan kong tumapat sa kanya nang siya’y yakapin. Mainit pa rin ang pagyakap niya sa akin kahit pa hindi sang-ayon sa aming mga desisyon ang sitwasyon. Makapigil hininga pa rin ang lapit namin sa isa’t isa, ‘di makapaniwalang may taong mamahalin ako ng ganito. Ang daya ng mundo. Inalis ko ang aking pagkakayap upang makita nang maayos ang kanyang mukha. Memoryado ko na ito, kahit pa nakapikit, kaya mahirap burahin sa isip. Tiningnan niya rin ako pabalik at dahandahang pinunasan ang tira-tirang luha sa mukha. Sumunod ang ulo ko sa direksyon ng mainit niyang palad. Hinawakan ko ito, at binaba sa tabi. Binalik ko ang tingin sa kanya. Napakagat ako sa labi para maiwasan ang luhang pumipilit na bumagsak. “Sam…” Lumapit siya at hinalikan ako sa labi. Naramdaman ko ang pag-init ng aking mukha, at wala pang ilang saglit ay hinalikan ko na rin siya pabalik. Mabagal at maingat niya akong hinalikan, may bahid ng pag-aalinlangan sa gawain. Natatakot kaya siya na masaktan ako ulit? Hindi ko masabi, hindi ko na alam. Hinayaan ko na lang na makasama siya ngayon, kahit saglit. Niyakap ko siya ulit sa leeg at pinulupot ang hita sa kanyang katawan, makakuha lang ng magandang anggulo sa kanya. Inalalayan niya ako’t inikot niya ang kanyang mga braso sa aking bewang, hinihila ako papalapit lalo sa kanya. Kung pupwede lang ihinto ang oras, gagawin ko, mapanatili ko lang na malapit siya sa akin. Pinipilit kong magising kahit na hinihila na ako ng pagod pabalik sa kama para makapahinga na. Siguro nga’y hayaan ko na lang gumalaw ang mundo. ‘Di ko na tatakasan ang bukas. Bumitaw din ako paglipas ng ilang saglit. Bumigay na ang katawan ko sa pagod. Binigyan ko siya ng isang matipid na ngiti para malaman niyang OK lang din ako—na kaya ko nang ayusin ‘to. Hinalikan niya 28
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
ako sa noo at saka humiga pabalik sa kama. Pinatay ko ang ilaw sa kwarto at saka sumunod sa pagkakahiga sa kama. Binaon ko ang aking ulo sa kanyang leeg habang nakayap sa kanya, pumikit at natulog.
Pagbangon ko sa umaga ay hinanda ko na ang kape ko. Nagising ako sa malamig na hangin na pumasok mula sa bintana ng kwarto. Umuulan at amoy ang lupa sa labas, iniisip kung sapat na ba ang tubig na iniinit para mapawi kahit papaano ang lamig na nararamdaman ng katawan. Nagluto na rin ako ng almusal para sa aming tatlo nila Mama at Papa. Maya-maya, gigising na rin sila. Inayos ko na rin ang gamit ko papasok ng trabaho. Tubig, baon, phone, wallet, ID. Dinala ko muna ang kape sa may garahe, bitbit ang kahon ng yosi at lighter. Pinatong ko muna ang kape sa may pasimano. Kumuha ako ng yosi mula sa kahon at nilagay ito sa gitna ng aking labi, handa na para sindihan ito. Maingat kong binuksan ang lighter at nilapit ang apoy sa yosi. Tama na ‘yan, mariing pagpapaalala niya sa akin. Napatigil at nanatili ako sa ganoong pwesto—hindi mo siya kasamang magkape ngayon—hangga’t nahipan na ng hangin ang apoy mula sa lighter. Binaba ko ang lighter sa gilid at binalik ang stick ng yosi sa kahon. Maaga pa, marami pang gagawin ngayon. Mahaba pa ang araw.
2975
Malate Literary Folio
THERESE DIANE VILLANUEVA
Lazy Afternoon 30
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
CATHLEEN JANE MADRID
Bloom
I
do what the instructions say. I make sure that the temperature in my room has the right amount of humidity. I open the windows to let the light in. Enough sunlight, enough water. I lay on my bed as I wait for myself to bloom. At night, that’s when I notice. Tiny leaves growing out of my toenails. They tangle themselves unto the heel of my feet, and I try to sleep it off, not mind the discomfort, as if ignoring them will erase the fact that they are real. Isn’t this what you wanted? I thought to myself. But I cannot help but think about the suffocating feeling that I am being held down. I do not sleep at all. By the break of dawn, I realize that the roots have loosened. I pluck the leaves one by one. Because of my lethargy, they have lost their hold on me. Starting from square one, I follow the instructions again. I drink water, swim in the sunlight. I lay on my bed and once more, I wait for the leaves to appear.
31
Bloom
This time, they grow through my palms. The leaves decorate my fingers and I look at them, enchanting in the moonlight. I almost slip into slumber. By the next day, the leaves are still intact. I realize that they are now woven through the veins beneath my hands. They have become a part of me, just as they should. I go about my day, repeating the same method. I water the leaves, and bathe in the sun. As the day ends, I notice tiny buds have appeared through the leaves. The next day, some of the buds have opened, revealing beautiful, pink flowers. Soon enough, the flowers have multiplied and the leaves have stretched as well, growing through my toes. Vines are now covering my arms, tightly holding me in their embrace. I now spend most of my days outside the house, in the garden. In the sunlight, the vines feel itchy and smothering but I convince myself again and again that this is what it takes to thrive. I endure the pain. I am growing and growing and I cannot stop. I tell myself that I needed this. I needed to bloom. Often lounging in the sunlight, people have started to notice the abundance of flowers slowly overtaking me. First, there were only a handful of people. But soon, they beckon others to join. They look at me, entranced by the spectacle before them. To them, I am beautiful, an artwork that was meant to be displayed. They shower me with compliments and I feel luminous as the leaves seem to grow further. I thrive on their adoration. With every word, the flowers seem to grow more and more. This is what I want. I ignore the way the vines have gripped me tighter, almost leaving me no room to breathe in. But soon, the leaves take over my legs, and I find it difficult to stand up. The vines seem to have held me in place, in the middle of the garden where I lay. As people stop by to admire the flowers growing through me, they pluck them. One by one, they take and they take and I let them. I gasp in pain with each pull but I do not ask them to stop. They do not stop. I can hear their whispers as they take more than I can count. Flowers for mothers, for birthdays, for lovers, for graves. They take for 32
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
their own kinds of purpose and I allow myself to be of service to them. People come to get more. And I give them more. I give them whatever they want. But the more they take, the more the leaves and the flowers seem to grow in number. The more they pluck, the tighter the vines hold me, as if refusing to let go. I cannot breathe, the flowers have overtaken my complete being but they are so entrancing that no one could see the vines suffocating me from underneath. I am blind to the pain. I soak myself in the adoration I am given as I bloom and bloom and bloom. I am filled with joy as I see how people’s eye sparkle when they look at me. As I bloom, as I grow more beautiful to their eyes, the more I feel suffocated. But I remind myself again, Isn’t this what you wanted? So I allow the flowers to completely cover me, I let the vines devour my flesh, until I am no longer a person. Until I am no longer my own. I am their garden. I bloom for them.
33
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2 MATTHEW RAFAEL FLORENDO
Malate Literary Folio
Bloom digital art
INSERT ARTIST’S NAME
Insert Title Here medium / other info
34
34
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
ADAIR NEVAN HOLGADO
Based Off Looks digital art
35
Malate Literary Folio
THERESE DIANE VILLANUEVA
Facet scanography
36
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
37
ADAIR NEVAN HOLGADO
Sickolo
digital art
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
BENEDICT LIM
/OVERLOAD/ 39
Breathe
40
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
ELIJAH NICOLAS FERRERA
Online Learning 41
scanography
Malate Literary Folio
ELIJAH NICOLAS FERRERA
A Sleepless Night’s Unrest scanography
42
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
JAMIE SHEKINAH MAPA
43
Tumingala, Tumindig digital art
Malate Literary Folio
NIKKI ELISHA ELQUIERO
Against the Sea
S
he vividly remembered how they used to dance before her father set sail. Her mother said it was to let the wind spirits guide her father to a safe journey. They swayed the boat, sending a message to the good sea spirits so her father would have a bountiful catch. Her parents would always beckon her to help when she was young, and she would run to the boat with a big smile on her face. She loved it. She loved doing it very much. But now anything related to the sea reminded her of something bad, something horrendous. “Do you miss them?” The ocean was surprisingly still like dark glass shimmering under the moonlight. Her parents had told her how the sea god was always angry and wanted to bring forth chaos. They said that the god used to be kind and calm, always letting his spirits help fishermen. But humans became greedy and abused his kindness, turning the god into a hateful deity who swore to destroy every ship in his domain. “I do,” she said. “And every day I think of them. I think of how things 44
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
would turn out if I only made the right choices.” “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. No one can go against a god.” But still, I was supposed to help them, she wanted to say. But the wind called and she was all alone again.
The sun was about to rise and she hadn’t left the house yet. Living alone was something she wasn’t quite familiar with. Sleeping hasn’t been the easiest task and with that, waking up became harder as well. Sometimes she imagined her mother waking her up, her mother’s rough hand would shake her shoulder and her soft voice would enter her ears, but all she could get were the blinding sunlight and the empty echoes of the sea waves. She stood in front of the mirror for the fourth time in an hour. The figure she saw looked dead. Her hair stuck in different directions and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she just came out of a local film about the undead, except she looked more realistic. She ran her hands down her wrinkly blouse, hoping to straighten it out. It didn’t. The curtains flailed as the wind swept in through the windows. She hugged herself, missing the warmth that suddenly dissipated. “You look pretty.” She snorted. “I don’t.” “Oh, but you do.” She tried to pat her hair down in hopes that it would make her a little bit presentable. Again, it didn’t. “Just like Mama.” She briefly imagined her mother’s face—eyes wide, mouth open, skin pale—before she winced and looked away. “No,” she breathed out, her voice almost inaudible. She was certain that her lungs were crunching up inside her chest. She tried to breathe normally but it was like she forgot how to do it. “S-stop it. Don’t say that—” In the kitchen, the old kettle whistled and caught her attention. 45
Against the Sea
She scrambled to turn it off and poured the water into a mug, the sweltering steam hitting into her face. She turned to place the kettle back on the stove but hit the mug instead. The ceramic shattered on the floor, its contents splattering on her legs. She tried to pick up the broken mug but a small, sharp piece nicked her hand. She stared blankly at the wound as the blood seeped through out of her skin.
The fish looked weird, she noticed. She had seen a lot of fish. There were galunggong, talakitok, maya-maya, tanigi, lapu-lapu, she had seen them all from her father’s catch when the sea god wasn’t angry. But this one was different, it looked bloated with eyes that look like they were going to pop out soon. It looked like one kind of fish from one angle and a whole different kind of fish from another. The vendor eyed her warily. It wasn’t like staring at a ridiculous-looking fish for almost ten minutes was weird, right? She was surprised no one has taken a photo of it yet. “Gods, girl, stop mumbling. Are you going to buy or not?” the vendor snapped. She finally tore her gaze away from the fish. “Kalahating kilong t-tamban po.” “What was that, girl?” the vendor demanded. She bit her lip before clearing her throat. “Kalahating kilong tamban po,” she repeated with a steadier voice. It was a busy day for the market. A lot of fishermen just came in with their catch, all were in good shape. The sea had been calm for the past few days, allowing fishermen to sail peacefully. Though the
46
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
bleak wind was as strong as ever. “You bought tamban? Papa loves tamban. You should cook his favorite dish.” She shook her head. “I don’t have enough money to buy other ingredients.” She didn’t even have enough money to buy anything for quite a while now. This was the last of her money. “That’s a shame.” She turned away, not wanting to talk anymore. “You cook his favorite food well.” No, I don’t. I almost burned the house down once. Her parents laughed it off like it was nothing, like she only spilled soup on the floor. They were confident that the gods—even their hateful sea god—would protect them from anything. Even from her. The vendor finally gave her the plastic bag of tamban with yet another strange look. She left and missed the streams of whispers that erupted from the market.
The sun was about to set but the clock told her that it was too early. The rice was taking longer to cook, the fried tamban was already getting cold. She felt annoyed, she didn’t like cold food. Why couldn’t things just go her way? She was already exhausted. She missed her parents very much. “We both don’t like cold food. Mama always scolded us back then for that. She says we shouldn’t be picky.” “I’m not picky,” she said. They were not the luckiest family. They weren’t blessed. Most of the time, her father couldn’t even catch a lot of fish, and they ended up spending the day with only rice and soy sauce. She couldn’t afford to be picky. “Oh, but you are.” 47
Against the Sea
She clenched her fists, the irritation bubbling up in her chest. I am not. The sun had finally set and now the beach was painted differently. It was dark, cold, and empty. Outside, the harsh wind howled and the waves came crashing down on the shore. She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her body. It felt just like that night. Just like that one night.
The house was empty save for her. She could hear the furious waves pounding the sand outside. She could hear their every roll, and whirl, and splash like a neverending song. It was always like this every night and she couldn’t fall asleep. The waves drowned everything else around her as their rhythmic percussion continued to resonate against her ears. “Mama would sing us a lullaby in times like this. Or tell us stories. I love her stories.” The stories were her favorite too. They made her feel like she was traveling to different places. And the best thing was they made her fall asleep in no time. But now she couldn’t even close her eyes without fearing what her dreams have in store for her. She turned in her bed, hoping to find the perfect spot where she wouldn’t be able to hear the waves but she had no luck. Even if she buried her whole head under her pillow and blanket, she could still hear the waves loud and clear as if they were calling for her. She turned again in frustration. “Maybe the sea god is coming to get me,” she said, her voice shaky with fear. “What? No, he won’t. He’s just angry, as he always is.” 48
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
“How can you be so sure?” He was always angry but not like this. He was coming to get her, he was going to. That should be it, right? She breathed heavily before sitting upright, hugging herself tightly. “Maybe he wants to get me too. After all, Mama and Papa, they were kind, they worshipped him, but that didn’t stop him. He just hates all humans. He got them and I couldn’t even do anything to s-stop him. I c-couldn’t.” Her throat suddenly felt dry and her lungs were squeezing in again. She just needed to breathe calmly, she just needed to— “Hush now. The sea god isn’t coming to get you, silly. It is terrible. What happened to Mama and Papa, that is, but you shouldn’t overthink it. It wasn’t your fault.” “But I was so close, so, so close. Mama’s hand was right in front of me—” “It wasn’t your fault. Trust me. I was there, remember? It wasn’t your fault.” “Not my fault,” she whispered, staring soullessly at her hands. She said it again, Not my fault. Then again. And again. And again. And again. And again, until the sea of words rolled out of her tongue like a chant, like a prayer. Not my fault. Slowly, she got pushed down into the bed. “That’s right. You know you can’t go against a god.” The hand against her face made her calm. It was soft, it was warm, it was familiar. It was like the soothing wind at the beach. The wind that guided her father during his sailing. The wind that protected them against bad spirits. It was the touch she has been longing for. But at the same time, it was empty, it was cold, it was strange. Not my fault. “They couldn’t be saved.” 49
Not my fault.
Against the Sea
“The sea god is strong.” Not my fault. “You had to save yourself.” I just want them back. The hand moved to stroke her hair and it was even more powerful than her Mama’s lullabies. She felt her eyelids getting heavy, her mind slipping into darkness, her soul getting pulled to somewhere unknown. “Sleep now, child.” Outside, the ocean was still like dark glass shimmering under the moonlight. The wind blew and the house was empty save for her.
50
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
51
Malate Literary Folio
52
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
LORENZO MANUEL VILLALUNA
The Candlelight Follow me into the dark of night Where my deepest secrets hide in the shadows, So I can light a match and try to show you Bare and whole. But the match grants me a tiny flame; Barely highlighting our faces. Therefore I must ask of you, A candle to share the flame; To illuminate the darkness that surrounds. And as what was hidden in the shadows Unravel themselves in front of your eyes, I shall ask no more of you. For it shall be in your discretion To walk away with the candlelight, Or hold it with me through the dark of night.
53
Malate Literary Folio
FRANCIS D’ANGELO MINA
Susanoo
“Thereupon the eight hundred myriad Deities took counsel together, and imposed on High-Swift-ImpetuousMale-Augustness a fine of a thousand tables...” - The Kojiki, sect. XVII, translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain (1882)
54
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
I. The Banishment They cut off your beard, pulled out your nails, and granted you a hallowed expulsion. Your sister’s eyes, unlike the warmth of her, did not recoil from the sight of you, no longer, as she laced her words with venom: “Will you summon your gales, will you muster your showers, will you conjure your squalls in retaliation? Though I am a woman, why should I live in dread and cower from you? Where are your tempests now?” You knew the answers but you did not move her, no longer, as the Heaven and the Earth have decreed: “The sun has set on you.”
55
Susanoo
II. The Ravaging To a pledge of sincerity, you chewed on your necklace and brought forth mighty beings. To a display of intent, you raged with victory and enraged the light. To a promise of purity, you thirsted for darkness and yearned for daybreak. These be eight sins bound to the place of the reed plains,
one for breaking the ridge two for covering the ditch three for opening the floodgate four for injuring the sown seed five for setting up the stake six for skinning alive the beast seven for skinning backwards the beast eight for defiling sacred ground
56
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
III. The Mourning Did the manner of your weeping wither away mountains of green and empty rushing rivers, like it has eight ages ago? You do not cry for us, like we cry for fallen wisteria flowers, for broken plum branches, for the whippoorwhill’s lonely whistling. There can be no grief for a herald of calamity.
57
Susanoo
IV. The Descent The river Hi, with the color of blue irises, murmurs in the land of Izumo. The princess of the rice-fields, eighth of eight, returns with the chirping of crickets, and the words of her fruitless respects flutter in the air, as solemn as maple leaves in the autumn. Her old father rubs his two-grasp beard, and his sunken eyes fixate on distant snow-capped mountains, while her mother pours tea-water from the pot, and her face lined with creases turns to the strange visitor, who claimed to be the storm. “Seven good daughters, seven long and wasted years, and not even the wild seas nor the thundering skies can thwart this monstrosity from claiming our only beloved,� her old father said slowly. You think, they shed their tears for those who were slaughtered. They did not deign to wicked deeds,
58
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
and had no fondness for wailing and wrath in retaliation, yet they lived in dread and the shadow of sorrow. To a pledge of sincerity, you drew your sword and offered your services. To a display of intent, you sheltered the princess and put her in your hair. To a promise of purity, you swore: “Tempests come and tempests go.� These be eight mandates bound to the headwaters of the ancient stream,
59
one for eightfold liquor to be brewed two for an encircling palisade to be built three for eight gates to be opened four for eight platforms to be tied five for eight vessels to be placed six for each vessel to be filled seven for courage to be tested eight for honor to be found
Susanoo
V. The Serpent Unfurling for eight valleys and eight hills, unending eyes, with the color of paper lanterns, a slithering overgrowth of fir and cedar, and a belly as inflamed as blood-splattered sleet, the eight-forked dragon comes in his vicious ways, and rises from the dark waters with a writhing shriek that shook the world’s pillars as told in the oldest of annals. Their hearts were horror-struck with the craving of depraved creatures and the drunken stupor of eight heads laying down in tangled slumber, and seven good daughters emerged from the castles of their minds, enraptured with deaths’ muzzle closing in, closing in ‘til your blade glints as a star in a dark, weary night and the northeasterly winds swirl in catastrophic gashes like deep red strings to kill eight deaths. The river Hi, with the color of winter cherries, murmurs in the land of Izumo. 60
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
VI. The Grass-Cutting Sword You smote the fiend, and in the fading carcass, thinking it strange, you sought a gift worthy of exorcism of your fondness for wailing and wrath: a great sword ten-grasps long, overflowing with zephyrs and gusts of parting clouds. Your sister’s eyes, like the warmth of her, glowed with comfort from the sight of you once more, as she ran her hands on your offering: “How is that your gales bring luck? How is that your showers seek peace? How is that your squalls perceive power in atonement? Though I am a goddess, why should I not grant you pardon and put to rest old offenses?” You knew the answers, but you cared not to reply once more, as the Heaven and the Earth have declared: “The sun has shone on you.”
61
Susanoo
VII. The Palace The day of festivities resounded through eight ages like darting dragonflies across a morning pool. The princess of the rice-fields, eighth of eight, returns with the flapping of butterflies, and the words of her immortal vow remain in the air, as sturdy as yellow carp in the summer. Her old father brushes his pristine garb, and his gleaming eyes behold on immense scarlet-roofed towers, while her mother cools herself with a painted fan, and her face powdered in ivory smiles at the strange visitor, who has now become their son. You partook in wine and music and became one with the sky that cradles you in breezy arms, and for a moment’s eternity, you stood on top of the world, “Listen for eightfold cheers for my heart is pure,� and burst into song: yakumo tatsu izumo yaegaki tsumagomi ni yaegaki tsukuru sono yaegaki o 62
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
VIII. Ne-no-Kuni The hidden dwelling was promised to you for rain, for harvest, whilst the virtue of valor alights old spirits of the gathering nights in the land of roots. This is your heart’s desire to cleanse yourself of your vicious ways, to divine the memory of a future gone past, to hide the rage that has long calmed. Did the manner of your reminiscing plunge the world into darkness and slay water beasts, as it did eight ages ago? You remembered for us, like we remember for plump ripe persimmons, for blooming cherry blossoms, for the crane’s boundless calling. There can be no death for a bringer of life.
63
for the storms rising, breaking, and rising eightfold
Malate Literary Folio
INSERT PHOTOGRAPHER’S NAME NIGELLE JORGIA LOUISE LIM
Insert Title Here Salubungin ang Araw 64
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
ANA ANGELI ATOK
Genesis In rapid proliferation, the gelatinous brimmings of life unfolds and infolds— alien-like expansions and pockets of outgrowths, all sequential motions of microscopic proportions. Each delicate development is a perfected system through millenniums of what works and what doesn’t for a human’s body, like organic 1 horology, that’s been put together 2histologically. It is nature and science’s true marvel that humanity’s bests all start out with nebulas of blasts of cells and 3 blastulas— evolution’s magic invaginated into genesis.
1 Horology - the art of making clocks and watches 2 Histology - the study of the microscopic structure of tissues 3 Blastula - an animal embryo at the early stage of development when it is a hollow ball of cells 65
65
66
Tomo XXXVI Bilang 2
PASASALAMAT Nais pasasalamatan ng Malate Literary Folio ang mga sumusunodmga kaibigan, kapwa manunulat, at mga mangingibig ng sining.
Dr. Mesandel Arguelles, at Mr. Vijae Alquisola; Ms. Franz Santos, Ms. Jeanne Tan, Mrs. Ma. Manuela S. Agdeppa, at ang Student Media Office; Ms. Dinah Roma at ang Department of Literature; Dr. Ernesto Carandang II at ang Departamento ng Filipino; ang Bienvenido Santos Creative Writing Center; College Editors Guild of the Philippines; Ms. Nelca Leila Villarin at ang Office of Student Affairs; Dr. Lily Ann Cabuling at ang Health Services Office (Taft); DLSU Bookstore; DLSU Student Co-Operative (SCOOP); Council of Student Organizations (CSO); Office of the Legal Counsel; Finance and Accounting Office; Security Office; Mr. Michael Millanes at ang Student Discipline Formation Office; Ang Pahayagang Plaridel, Archers Network, Green Giant FM, Green & White, The LaSallian, at ang Student Media Council; Magicus Junctra Corporation Printing; At higit sa lahat, sa mga kasapi’t kaibigan na patuloy na umaalalay sa paglalago ng Malate Literary Folio.
x
70
OKTUBRE 2020