The Pioneer Taimtim Literary Folio by The Pioneer AUF

YUGTO I

TAIMTIM

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

Artworks are collective efforts of Kian Francis Peralta, Christle Ann Bernardo, and Kevin Valen Arcelo Layout and design by Ma. Rheanna Tuazon

TAIMTIM LITERARY FOLIO Volume XLIX, no. 3 Special Issue The Pioneer © 2021 THE PIONEER is the Official Student Publication of Angeles University Foundation Comments and inquiries may be sent to: The Pioneer AUF aufthepioneer@gmail.com @thepioneerauf The Pioneer Office, Barbara-Yap Angeles Building, A212, Angeles University Foundation 2009 Angeles City, Pampanga, Philippines This Literary Folio is not for sale.

Yugto I: TAIMTIM A Literary Folio VOLUME XLIX, NO. 3 SPECIAL ISSUE

MAY 2021

LIHAM MULA SA PUNONG PATNUGOT

agmula sa mga bangkong bato’t dulot nitong pahinga matapos ang klase, sa mga dayandang ng halakhak sa mga pasilyo’t bawat sikot ng unibersidad, sa hawak ng kasintahan, sa mga tanghalian at salu-salo ng mga magkakaibigan, at sa pakiramdam ng pagiging malaya... alam kong kinasasabikan ang muling pagbalik nito. Kapatid, alam kong hindi madali ang sitwasyon, at sa porma ng mga namumuno’y labis kong naiintindihan ang kawalan ng pag-asa. Sa bawat paglipas ng panahon at pagsalin ng araw mula dakong kanluran papuntang silangan, sagkaan ang paghinga. Dulot nito’y heto kami’t gumagawa ng folio, marahil ay representasyon ng aming nalalabing huwisyo. Sa isyu na ito, nais lamang din naming iparating na hindi ka nag-iisa’t marami tayong umaasa na mababalik din sa orihinal na ayos ang kalahatan. Porma ang aming mga prosa’t tula ng pakiki-isa. Kasama mo kami sa paghawi sa kadiliman at paghanap ng kasukalan sa nararamdamang “wala.” Hindi dapat itinatatwa ang nararamdamang lungkot o langkag, normal ito, ang mahalaga’y gising ka’t patuloy na lumalaban. Mahigpit na yakap sa iyo, kapatid. Padayon!

Tumitindig para sa bayan, MA. RHEANNA F. TUAZON Punong Patnugot

LETTER FROM THE SECTION EDITOR

aimtim started out as a project of the The Pioneer to engage students across several different colleges of the university to tell their stories of simple joys and stronghold passions of hope. Primarily, its visions and manifestations that still shape themselves even in our every day lives amidst these harsh times of the pandemic. To be fair, this folio was not meant to dilute the painful emotions many must have felt throughout the pandemic’s burgeoning courses, but was meant to provide a different landscape from where we may reflect about it. A reflection where we can derive a safe space from where we can feel the words of others and remind us that we are not truly alone. To say the least, these works were meant to encapsulate a message and it is to simply say to you, congratulations. Truly congratulations, for making it this far. It may not have been easy and words would simply be far too insurmountable to even describe the feelings that you may have felt throughout these tides, but still, I do wish to express my salutations to you. Ultimately, through these works, we do hope that they may cherish and give reverence to the voices of others and perhaps, to you, as our reader, who is also venturing forth where we hope that you may embrace your current stories, your passions, joys and pains, and ultimately take that one single step for another time to keep on keeping on.

Sincerely yours, KEVIN VALEN T. ARCELO Literary Editor

OFFICIAL UNIVERSITY PUBLICATION OF ANGELES UNIVERSITY FOUNDATION

Students of Angeles University Foundation Publishers

Ma. Rheanna F. Tuazon Editor in Chief

Samantha G. Gutierrez Associate Editor

Adrian Poul T. Blando Managing Editor

Kevin Valen T. Arcelo Section Editor

Kian Francis Peralta Christle Ann Bernardo Staff Artists

Dorothy Ann Rae Reyes Trisha Lindo Ann Clarise Mercado Thomas Jefferson Ovivir Yancy Moron Gerine Gonzales Kaye Ann Joy Castro Angelo Fernandez Trisha Mae Chu Rahul Mody John Leslie Layug Stefanie Janne Chelsea Galang Hazel Joyce Reyes Maitri Chavda Staff Writers

Katrina Denise Canlas Writer Martin Inigo Santos Writer Pink Penelope Flores Writer Jovelyn Tabago Writer Angela Mae Cuartelon Writer Charlyz Pia Bognot Writer Justin Paul Taruc Writer Krystyle Eilen Arcelo Artist Contributors

Ms. Cristina B. Reyes University Paper Adviser

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

IN MY

COSMOS TONGUE Stefanie Janne Chelsea C. Galang

Striving to escape from my mother’s sleeves as she pours the fifth dispenser of Wyeth S–26 in my Teletubbies feeding bottle, I was thrilled. I swirled around and ran towards that edge. Gathering all my energy, I didn’t find my puffy tummy and chubby legs as hindrances in climbing the apex of that wooden chair, knowing that in just a matter of seconds, I’d get to face an ethereality: my mother’s kikay lansena. Two minutes haven’t passed yet and I started to hear her screaming my name, asking me to take that daily 1:30 afternoon nap. But being the vigorous and persistent four-year-old that I was, I continued rummaging through her paraphernalia and found that Avon lipstick (which was the Mac of lipsticks back then). Without a second thought, I glazed that red over my lips, expunging the remnants of milk I have consumed a while back. My mother’s eyes widened not in horror but in awe, then despite her decreasing patience on me, collective laughter filled the room. We did not need words. I joined her. Truth be told, I, at times, yearn for the sense of normalcy we once had before this global pandemic jolted each and every one of us. But this phase also enabled me to take a trip down memory lane and had me yearning for the old, simpler times more, where we do not become easily swayed by the superficial and the era where we reject the grandiosity of all and how it is required for things to make sense within our lives. Aside from the names of Teletubbies characters, I’ve come to memorize every little object placed in that lansena: from Boyz II Men graphic pin buttons to unclean and long–forgotten cotton pads. That junction has witnessed me blossom from being that little girl who used to call her grandmother after she’s done her thing in the comfort room and the child who would utter “more ‘geddy’” when she wanted more spaghetti on her plate to the viva-laVida teen who still struggles to cross that road alone near their village but already manages to do her own grocery shopping. Over time, bored or not, I’ve always lost myself in those drawers, until I’d find my hands diving their way in their deepest ends only to find dust and overlooked products. Just like in life, I pursue in plunging into the unknown to seek for its abysmal realities. Time after time, I would watch myself in that lansena’s mirror and unravel my perspectives in life. I would dance my fingers in those pull–out

drawers while they progressively cultivate my discovery skills and unearthing habit. Just as I pick up crumpled receipts or my mother’s favorite Versace Blue Jean perfume, I delved into the terrain of unbeknown. Terrified that a dead lizard would welcome me, I did not cease. I reeled towards the glory of where my pens and prose would take me, I indulged in traversing the universe, my home, by patiently learning how to speak its various tongues and I endured Pythagorean theorems and Pearson-R correlation, hoping that I would be able to make use of them while grocery shopping. As this lansena witnessed how I blossomed over the years, I have also grasped my sense of identity—how my curiosity, discovery skills and unearthing habit were cultivated from the language of objects around me and also the milieu I grew up in and how these factors fuel my desire to answer life’s unknowns by utilizing my language and communicating with the world and its people. With one drawer on my left hand and another one on my right, I composed myself as I plunged into the lansena that is the world, enveloped with its own cosmos of definite and indefinite. I am a thing that comes from my soul and my soul screams of various experiences my mind can vaguely and clearly remember. I will always be a translation, waiting to be paraphrased. I am a soft revolution, keen to be revolted for. I am the remembering; I will always return. Yes, in waves. I go with all the zeroes, all the folklores, and all the breakthroughs. But I will always return––bursting, but still seeking. The world is my experience. The world is my lansena and this is what my tongue is made of.

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ART BY KEVIN VALEN ARCELO AND CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

A LESSON IN

ISOLATION

Angela Mae Cuartelon

I learned the beauty and the horrors of life in a cubic room of about three meters. I strangers

learned the just because

beauty of they want to

strangers helping and they can.

And this comes with the horror of staying untrusting of people even if they come with good intentions just because you were once lied to. I learned the beauty of making you laugh or smile even pandemic and they are the ones

people doing if we are all who took the

their jobs and faced with this brunt of it all.

And this comes with the horror of second guessing what they are doing just because of one article that you saw on Facebook. I learned the beauty of a family who stayed together even if they have to endure the responsibility of taking care of the other just because that’s how family truly is. And this comes with the horror of a family being broken because the virus has taken over the body of the other, leaving a helpless other behind. I learned the beauty of a family that is although physically separated, stays mentally, emotionally and spiritually connected to grow in love with each other more and more. And this comes with to sleep knowing that you’ll strangers, never knowing the

the horror of forcing yourself wake up with the presence of true state of your loved ones.

I learned the beauty of a mother’s love who will try everything that she can do just to make sure that her children and family are doing alright, even if it means begging to people she haven’t met before.

And

this

comes

with

the

horror

hearing

people

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talk behind her back just because they deemed her to be overreacting with the guilt of knowing that you thought of this too. I learned the beauty and the horrors of life not when I was frolicking in differents places, and meeting influential people with degrees, records, and stories to back their speeches, but when I was isolated in a cubic room of about three meters in a public hospital with low amenities filled with people with and without degrees or records, or influential stories. And I think that’s part of the beauty of life; that even in the most harrowing situations, life can still give you lessons to pat your back and remind you to get up on your feet because there will always be beauty in everything, you just have to look.

MY ROOM IS MY

UNIVERSE Justin Paul Taruc

My room is a place that has inspirited my being. Mementos scattered at most corners, and few odds and ends were hung across the wall. It did seem a lot personal— one that encapsulates my whole journey in this tough quarantined life. Despite how this room feels like me, their walls cannot hold a prayer. And so, I stared at nothingness, trying to possess transcendent synergy to that of a universe, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall’s nonplussed stare. I felt that there’s a promise of good things when we’re freed, something that appears nothing at face value. But there’s a fervent hope that when it does, it’ll be some fascinating occurrence of happenstance—something that looks familiar to those we wished for. But I don’t want to spoil the ways of the universe. I prefer to let things flow in its phase, regardless of how agonizing the wait was. Yet, I long for limitless hugs and warmth of friendship. I long for meeting people without being plastered by some medical safety measures; I wish to see smiles and laugh for those I care for. As I laid back, I thought to myself, maybe I have a significant nexus with the universe. Is it because my room is the universe? Whop! That’s a wild, vague guess. I am just searching for some dumb motives for painting it with hues of black, blue, gray, and white. It might’ve been just something out of randomness. One that resulted from my boredom.

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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Dawning Realizations. Charlyz Pia Bognot

Comfort, relief, familiarity, and home. That is how it feels whenever she’s inside her own little room. Together with her pillows and blankets, together with her stuffed toys and garments, and together with everything that goes and lies beyond. A room filled with a cabinet, a bed, and her memories that she builds within it. It was almost a part of her to be inside of that room of hers, but it just hits differently. Whenever the moon is up and whenever the water is dropping from the clouds. She sat there, staring at her window and looking deep within the things that mean so much more, things that are unexplainable. But it still hits differently whenever she listens to a song and whenever she changes it from a sad one to a calm one. Music gave her life and hit every note towards her heart with lovely melody. But it still hits differently whenever she looks outside her window and whenever she looks up at the sky. The calmness that embraces her each time she looks around her with so much curiosity. But it still hits differently that all these changes and development are occurring during tough times. It hits differently that this kind of magic is igniting its power while the world around it is on the verge of destruction. It all just hits differently. Then, realization dawned on her. She reflected during such times that maybe that comfort in her room is the world she created while the world is being recreated, that the things inside her room are the events that is helping the world to keep it together, that the way she stare at her window is the perception of the people to an ongoing crisis, that the way she changes the music is the emotions that is freely roaming around across the world, and that the way she looks around her is the hope that healing is on its way. It just hits differently to know that comfort, relief, familiarity, and home are rooted deep within her soul despite her unknown future.

ART BY KEVIN VALEN ARCELO AND CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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thieves

APRICOT

Hazel Joyce Reyes

I always carry in my pocket a dozen shades of orange, all mingled with a little green. And when I’d fish them out in the homeroom, they would oddly disappear. Breadcrumbs would lead me to the AC, whose grills would be adorned with apricot peels, and the idle guitar in the corner, who made not music but friends with a couple leaves. And how I would smile, as the silence is broken by laughter from the faces of innocent thieves, and as the air is sweetened by friendship and the scent of tangerines. I always carry in my pocket a dozen shades of orange, but now they’re either spoiled or sour, for the world has locked up the robbers who once made life a little easier. But I find comfort in the fact that sooner or later, the confinement of these pickpockets will come to an end. Until then, I’ll keep looking forward to the day I’ll once again lose my dozen shades of orange to the nimble hands of these apricot thieves.

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

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The

Sweets SHOP

Katrina Denise Canlas

A sign, painted in pristine white and bordered with dark curlicues, hung above the door of the nearby sweets shop. The words “Mr. Wallace’s Sweets Shop” glittered under the light of the sun as the sign slightly swayed with the breeze. The windows showed off sweets so appealing that children would drool at the sight and beg for their mothers to empty their wallets in response to their sudden cravings. I opened the door, and was met with the unlikeliest decor in such a bland and cold neighborhood. Cotton candy stripes ran down cream-colored walls where antique shelves of candies popped with color and were emblazoned with the flavors that lie inside the sugary goods. A tower of cotton candieson-a-stick occupied a corner of the shop along with another shelf filled to the brim with toffee, caramels, and chocolates while another corner held a chocolate fountain with bowls of marshmallow varieties lined around its base. Scattered around the area were glass displays of sweets ranging from baked goods such as brownies and cupcakes to hard candies like lollipops and jawbreakers. In the middle of it all, opposite to the entrance, was the sweets shop owner who restocked the shelves behind the counter with bars of a well-known brand of chocolate. At the chime of a bell above the door, a gentle smile decorated the owner’s lips as he welcomed me with open arms then gestured to all the shelves and displays, saying, “You’re free to choose whatever, my dear. My sweets shop has it all!” Warmth trickled from my head to my toes as I looked around; the soft hum of the sweets shop owner bouncing around the walls. The air strongly smelt of chocolate and baked sugar as I drifted around the displays like Alice losing her way in Wonderland. As my fingers reached for a chocolate brownie that piqued my attention, the slam of a door jarred me out of my reverie. A sneer decorated a 19-year-old boy’s face as his hardened eyes roamed the shop, as if he was deciding whether to raze the

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

establishment to the ground or to let it stay open for business. He was no stranger to me. After all, he was the son of the richest man in the city. His name was Cole Viridian Daniels, but the kids and adults who weren’t too fond of him nicknamed him COVID. It sounded like a disease, but it fit his overall personality: rude, distant, and selfish. No one wanted to be anywhere near him. He didn’t miss a beat, making his way towards the counter with an air of impudent arrogance. The blond brat purposely bumped shoulders with me, allowing him to go on his way, as I stumble off to the side from the impact. My brows furrowed, accompanying the disgusted frown drooping the corners of my lips. “I want all of your sweets!” The boy demanded with a hand on his chin while the other drummed his fingers on the countertop. Mr. Wallace almost fell off his stepladder from shock; mouth agog and eyes wide from the boy’s words. “Excuse a good look drawl,

me?” He sputtered, stepping at COVID. The latter rolled his

down to take eyes and scoffed.

“I want all of your sweets, Mr. Wallace,” he said with a slow like a mother teaching her child how to pronounce a word.

After Mr. Wallace scrambled for the calculator and counted his sales for the day, the teenager left with boxes of sweets being loaded into his car by his personal assistants, then they drove off with the brat’s condescending chuckle ringing in the humid air of summer. I stood there and looked at the desolate shop in bittersweet silence. The colors seemed bleak, much like the neighborhood, and the warmth that once permeated the atmosphere dropped to a frigid cold that seeped into my bones. The shelves and displays were empty, devoid of life and the color that once filled the sweets shop. I sighed, swearing that my breath misted in the air, but I shook the thought away since it was the beginning of summer.

“Excuse me?”

I blinked at the sensation of someone tapping my shoulder. I turned to see Mr. Wallace, that gentle smile on his face again, as he grasped my hand with his and the other placed something in it. The moment he lifted his hands away, a few pieces of tin foil-wrapped chocolates sat in my palm. They didn’t look extraordinary, yet the strong smell of chocolate that wafted around my nose was unlike any of the sweets from earlier. I curiously looked up at him and he answered my unspoken question.

“I noticed how you smiled and looked at the sweets in this shop,” he said. “I was reminded of the days when I was a child, happy at the sight of chocolate and other fancies, that it became my dream to open a shop with all of it.” Mr. Wallace pointed to the chocolates, “These are the last of my home-made chocolates, and I hope these will lift your spirits and make you smile again, dear.” Hot tears trailed down my right eye and dripped off my cheek at the sentiment. I clutched the chocolates to my chest and profusely thanked the kind, old gentleman before running all the way back home in fear of the chocolates melting under the sun. I was going to cherish these home-made chocolates, and I will never forget the kind owner and his sweets shop for the rest of my life. Whether COVID was there to ruin it again or not.

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Better Days

Martin Inigo Santos

“This feels like a dream”, I whisper to myself. A cool breeze sweeps through me like a much needed hug on a bad day. The sand wraps around my feet like soft hands clasping mine, making me feel that everything is alright.

And at that moment, it sure did feel like it.

The waves on the ocean rose and fell to the sound of music and laughter, and I’m reminded that I’m surrounded by the people I love. Realizing that, I walk towards the sounds that I longingly ache for, as if I know in the back of my mind that it wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, as I’m about to approach them, everything becomes hazy. I start to fade as I no longer see the distinction between the sky and the ocean. I run towards my loved ones but once I’m near, I can no longer recognize their faces.

Then suddenly, I hear nothing.

As if all the things that made the world go around instantly stopped. Just as I start to panic, a swift jolt passes through my body.

Everything is pitch black.

My eyes start to flicker; a warm light squeezes through the curtains. I am awake. Blood rushes to my head, trying to help my brain remember the dream I just had. But in a moment, it was all gone.

“Those were the better days”, I sighed.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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I dreaded being awake, as reality nowadays seemed far from the dreams that I crafted in my slumber. They were always reminiscent of old memories that I have, when life used to be so simple.

Everyone was healthier, happier.

I jerk up from my bed, opening my windows to let all the sun come in, and suddenly, a warmth brushed over my face. I recall the beams of sun that shine over us come summertime, a prompt that halcyon times are ahead. I manage a smile, a little more ready to start a new day. I go downstairs to prepare breakfast for myself, but a plate of pancakes and a mug of hot coffee was already on the table, with a sticky note taped:

“Late for work, but I made you some breakfast. Love, mom”

I take a sip of the coffee and it was as bad as I remembered; mom never knew how to make a good cup of joe, and we learned not to take one from her. But flashes started to appear before me, times when we would laugh over my mom’s refusal to admit her coffee was terrible, and all of a sudden, I had the urge to finish the whole thing. I forcefully chugged down the coffee and ate the pancakes, giving me the energy to last the morning. After breakfast, I knew it was going to be another day of things to do and tasks to accomplish, but that didn’t seem to bother me. In fact, I was looking forward to all of it. It’s amazing what kind of magic can come from a bad cup of coffee. The day went by without a hitch, without a single grim thought in my mind. I even had time to cook my family’s favorite dinner, wherein my little brother would scarf down the whole thing, leaving no leftovers (that always made me feel good). As the whole family sat down and ate dinner together, I see glimpses of all the happy times we’ve had, and it suddenly didn’t matter to me that we were all past that. There have been better days, that’s true, but today doesn’t seem so bad.

Lying in Wait. Pink Penelopy Flores

I relished the feeling of being in an alien environment. It was not exactly pleasant, but behind the unknown, a grand new adventure was waiting, lying in wait, as if it were a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. However, mixed with the excitement was a tinge of something I could not understand, an ominous feeling. Perhaps it was already an indication of what was about to happen in the following months to come. I remember it clearly, when the first of January came, I opened my favorite book just so I can read what my favorite person has to tell: Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. I was instantly alerted by the message that it wanted to convey. More than that, I was expectant. 2019 ended in a disaster for me, reading this passage gave me a new hope. My favorite person reminded me that I was in good hands. A promise was laid out, vague to some people, crystal clear to me. I just had to wait. It springs forth, and I have yet to perceive it. Little did I know that new thing came with a wine press. I was the newly plucked grapes; life was the wine press. I was crushed until there was nothing left of me. The following months were a test of endurance. I was in a foreign environment, the cold was seeping through my bones, my thoughts a jumbled mess, my anxiety running high. I tried all sorts of things and made all sorts of plans to get me through the months without breaking down. I am doing a new thing

What is the new thing you speak of?

Do you not perceive it?

I do not see it, my eyesight’s blurry-

I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

I cried. I was not the person who would easily cry, and that is an understatement. I never cried- period. However, that time, where all of us gathered in one room big enough for 28 people, I cried. It was time. It first started as us being an emotional wreck. We were weak, we were tired, we were losing all hope. But it is exactly for that reason that we know we cannot make it on our own. We needed help. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. It was then on that I realized; it It was not up to our own strengths- we We tried everything, yet it all failed. We why was it all a failure? It was because approach. We did it by our own power, by we were not strong. We were bound to fall

was not up to us! were terribly weak! did everything, but we made a wrong our own might, but and hit the ground.

It was only him that could make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. And so, he did. We surrendered it all, then waited. We did not wait for long. Now, we are home. After everything that we went through, now it seems silly to let fear take over our hearts. For perfect love casts out fear, and I know that we are loved. We might get tired, we might feel weak, we might feel lost, but we are loved. That kind of love which is steadfast and unchanging is what keeps me going. One battle has been won; the next battles will have the same outcome- victory.

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Slow down. Angelo Fernandez

“I am speed,” I whisper to myself as I rush the assignment due on Friday. I still have to attend the organization meeting later after class. I hope it will be over quickly as I still have to go to Claire’s house for our project. It’s always like this. I blitz through my classes, work through my assignments, then during my spare time, do work for the org I joined. At least, that was before the pandemic. Now, in the middle of quarantine restrictions, I’ve been forced to stop and reassess everything. At first, I thought, “why is this happening to me?”. Life is short, and I’ve got to make the most of it by being productive. Confined at home, with barely anything to do, I’m doing the exact opposite of productive. It was hard to cope. What can I do? My mind’s so used to the stress that relaxing makes me anxious. Then, one of my friends taught me the idiom “stop and smell the roses,” which means to take a break and enjoy life. Life isn’t a race. We’re not rushing towards the finish line and we should enjoy it while we can. At the same time, another friend taught me that taking a rest is also productivity. Taking time for yourself and giving yourself the chance to recuperate, to be able to come back and fight another day, it’s a kind of productivity we’ve forgotten lately. It’s something that the pandemic taught me, and I’m privileged to learn that. Maybe being quick and fast is good, but I’ve learned that it’s also important to slow down. Not everything should be rushed.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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Candlelight. Samantha Gutierrez

As the sky darkened, so did the four corners of my room. I squinted at the dim glow emanating from the sputtering candlelight before me. The candlestick stood proud and simple; it leaned sideways, with half its body melting away; its lifeline decreasing with every second that passed, but it still proudly basked me in its warm light. I looked up at my bare wall, thinking what a shame it was to spend an entire year cooped up in this familiar space, wasting time on familiar routines, and worrying over familiar dilemmas. What a shame. I furrowed my brows at the candle—what a wonder it was for living still, despite barely doing so. Its light still blinded me regardless of the puddle that now gathered to shake its very foundation. A year into this forsaken limbo and we are still living. We wake up with the looming sense of déjà vu. Yet, we still persevere. Each day we burn ourselves out, dead tired from a day’s work. We slump back in our beds, and close our eyes, only to open them once more for the same, damned cycle. The candle flickered. What was it waiting for? It has already realized its end, so why can’t it just see it through? It dawned on me that in this strange limbo we are living in, we are not stuck. No, we are simply waiting, and only good things come to those who wait with patience. I am alive, I tell myself. The future may be bleak, but at least I have one. Still captivated by its will to I blew the fire out. What a time to

hold be

on, alive.

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

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HOPE

Christle Ann Bernardo

Nobody saw it coming— and, when it did, it came like a hurricane and blew our matchstick-made lives. We were already fragile. Balancing on the might-have-beens and solitary promises. Life was normal, as it should.

Then suddenly, it was not.

For days on, I wondered. I wished. I wept. I wondered again. Who knew that life could be altered so greatly, and so terribly? Human lives have become wisps— so easily blown by the invisible and now deadly wind. Life, alongside faith, comfort, and joy are dead. But something remains alive, although barely. Hope. Killing hope is the terrible, terrible side effect of a worldwide crisis. A killed hope would mean squeezing out the last bit of trust and longing we could muster into an abyss. If hope is dead, everything else would be too. I found hope in the mundane: in the glee of my lola’s voice when she greets me “good morning,” in her gleaming eyes when I finish my works early because that would mean we could a watch a movie, in the sound of the car that signals my mom and dad are home and safe, and in the occasional buzz of my phone where a flurry of messages from my friends would come greeting me. For days on I still wondered. I still wished. I wept more. But I knew everything was rekindled by hope.

Nobody saw it coming, but hopefully, we could all see it end.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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Gerine Gonzales

Sa isang malawak na hardin na puno ng sari-saring mga bulaklak ako napadpad. Diko mawari ang dahilan ng aking paglalakad sa daretsong hagdan na walang katapusan. Ang aking mga paa ay kusa na lamang humahakbang na tila’y may mga sariling isipan. Ramdam na ramdam ko ang mahalimuyak na hangin na dumadampis sa aking buong katawan at ang mapayapang paligid na tanging boses lamang ng mga ibon ang napakikinggan. Nang walang anu-ano ay bigla na lamang nagkaroon ng malakas na tinig na tila ba’y may sinasabi ngunit hindi ko maintindihan. Sinubukan kong hanapin ang pinagmumulan ngunit para bang ito’y napakalayo sa aking kinatatayuan. Hanggang sa may malinaw akong narinig ito’y tunog ng isang orasan. Unti-unti akong naglalaho at tinatangay ng malakas na hangin palayo sa napakagandang hardin na aking pinasukan. Maya-maya ang aking katawan ay kusa na lamang bumangon sa higaan at napagtanto na ang lahat pala’y nangyari lamang sa aking isipan. Sa pagbukas ko ng pintuan ay bumungad sa akin ang mga taong aligaga sa paglalabas ng upuan sa harap ng aming tahanan. Sumilip ako sa bintana at mga nagbibigay ng bigas at delata ang aking nasilayan kasabay ng mga sigaw na “walang lalabas”. Noo’y may bigla na lamang sumagi sa aking isipan… “ganito pala ang aming magiging katayuan sa gitna ng pandemya”. At sinupalpal ako ng reyalidad na ito’y kabaliktaran sa kapayapaan na aking napaginipan. Pumasok ako sa banyo upang maghilamos at magsipilyo at sinasabi ko na isang buwan na ang nakalilipas ng muli akong magising sa araw na ito. Dumaretso ako sa kusina upang kumain na. Isinubo ko ang kutsara na may kanin at ulam. Nginuya ko ito ng dahan-dahan dahil wala naman ako hinahabol na oras. Sa pangalawang subo ay nag-iba ang mga pagkaing nasa hapag-kainan at naalala ko na lumipas na na naman ang isang buwan sa aking buhay ngunit nasa loob lamang ng tahanan. Nahalata ko na para bang napakabagal ng oras

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

pag walang ginagawa. Sa pagkurap ng aking mga mata ay bigla ko na lamang nakasama ang aking pamilya na salu-salo sa panananghalian. Ang aking atensyon ay nabaling sa aking ama na madalang kung umuwi dahil ang kanyang trabaho ay nasa malalayong lugar. Sumakit ang aking tiyan dahil sa mga walang katapusang tawa dulot ng mga kwento ng kanyang kabataan. Sa mga sandaling iyon ay nawala ang takot, inip, at lungkot sa akin at kahit papaano ay naramdaman ko na normal ulit ang buhay. Naubos na ang mga pagkain ngunit tuloy pa rin sa kwentuhan hanggang sa napatanong ako sa aking sarili… anong araw ba ngayon? Naalala ko kase tuwing linggo lang kami nakukumpleto dahil sinusundan pa rin namin na ito’y araw ng pamilya. Sumapit ang hapon at wala sino man sa amin ang gustong magpahinga marahil ay iisa lamang ang nasa aming mga isipan, tulog na naman! Sa aking pagmumuni-muni ay bigla akong bumalik sa aking pagkabata, pawis na pawis at nakikipaghabulan sa ilalim ng mataas na tirik ng araw. Tumbang preso, tagu-taguan, langit-lupa, at syempre habul-habulan ang mga paborito kong laro sa daan noon. Napatawa ako dahil naalala ko rin na tumatakas pa ako tuwing hapon para lang makipaglaro sa kapit-bahay at sinusuway ang aking mga magulang sa tuwing pinapatulog nila ako para daw lumaki agad ngunit wala naman akong pinagsisisihan dahil ang mga maghapon kong walang tulog, pawis, sugat sa tuhod, at sirang tsinelas ang mga sinakripisyo ko para sa mga malalakas na tawa at masasayang ala-ala na aking pinabalikan ngayon. Hanggang sa may bigla na lamang tumapik sa aking balikat, ang limang taong gulang na pamangkin ko lang naman na ang paboritong gawin ay gulatin ako. Inaya niya kong maglaro ng lutu-lutuan. Tatlong pung minuto pa lamang ang nakalilipas ay nakaramdam na ako ng pagkainip, mahirap talagang sabayan ang mga bata dahil mababaw lamang ang kanilang kaligayahan. Umisip ako ng mas masayang pweding gawin. Nang masilayan ko ang aking ina na pinagmamasdan ang kanyang mga halaman ay nakita ko ang kasagutan. Tinanong ko ang napakaseryoso kong pamangkin kung nais ba niyang magtanim. Pinuntahan namin ang aking ina na kanyang lola sabay sabing, lola’y game! Napangiti siya dahil alam kong naalala

niya ang aking pangako noon na isang araw ay tutulungan ko siya sa pag-sasaayos ng kanyang halamanan. Winalis ko ang mga dahong nakakalat samantalang dinilig naman ng aking pamangkin ang lupa gamit ang kanyang laruan timba. Kalabasa, talong, sitaw, at okra ang aming mga itinanim kapalit ng mga lanta at patay na mga halaman. Ang mga gulay na ito lang naman kase ang sangkap ng pinakbet na aming paboritong ulam. Kakatapos palang namin ng biglang bumuhos ang napakalakas na ulan, dali-dali kaming tatlong pumasok upang di mabasa’t magkasakit. Napasilip ako sa bintana at sa likod ng mga makakapal na ulap sa langit ay pula, kahel, dilaw, asul, at lila ang mga kulay na umagaw sa aking atensyon. Ang ulan ay maihahalintulad ko sa pandemya na walang pinipiling oras ang pagbuhos at hindi alam kailan matatapos ngunit gaano man ito kalakas ito’y titigil din at pagkatapos nito ay may bahaghari na sumisimbulo ng pag-asang darating. Pagpatak ng alas otso ng gabi ay naramdaman ko na ang pagiyak ng aking tiyan. Nagtataka ako bakit wala pa akong naaamoy na pritong tocino’t longganisa na lagi naming ulam sa hapunan. Inikot ko ang aming tahanan at wala akong nakita ninuman. Nagsisimula na akong matakot at di ko na maramdaman ang aking gutom. Sa pagkakaalala ko wala kami lahat lakad dahil bawal nga lumabas maliban sa isa na bumibili ng pangangailangan namin sa bahay at tapos na din ang buwan ng Abril para sa “April Fools” kung sakaling niloloko man nila ako. Para tuloy bumalik ang buwan ng Nobyembre dahil pakiramdam ko napapaligiran na ako ng mga multo. “De, Ma, Koy, Teng”…… eto mga isinigaw ko dahil Kapampangan gamit namin sa bahay at tinawag ko na sila lahat para sigurado ngunit ako lang talaga ang maingay. Naisipan kong bumalik na lang sa kwarto at nagtakit ng kumot dahil may narinig na akong mga bulong. Isa, dalawa, tatlo, surprise!!!.. hahaha. Sa gulat ko ay napasigaw ako, may pagka mali-mali kasi ako. Anong trip niyo? tanong ko. Walang sumasagot dahil nagpapakamatay pa rin sila lahat sa kakatawa, kilalang-kilala talaga nila ako na di mabubuhay mag-isa dahil nga sobrang matatakutin ko. Napabaling ako ng tingin sa “cake” na hawak ng aming ama. Tama, nalimutan ko na kaarawan ko na nga pala ngayon.

Sa mga sandaling iyon ay naramdaman ko na napakabilis ng pagdating ng araw na ito. Parang kahapon lang nagsimula ang klase at buwan pa lamang ng Agosto. Nang matauhan ako na ika labing-apat na pala ng Oktubre ngayon ay bumagal ang lahat sa loob ng aking kwarto, tila ba nagkaroon ng sinasabi nila “slow-mo”. Hindi naaalis ang mga ngiti sa mukha ng aking pamilya, di natatapos ang kanilang mga tawa, at di kami nagkakahiwalay sa pagyayakapan. Napaluha ako dahil hindi ko lubos maisip na magiging ganito kasaya ang isa sa mga espesyal na araw sa aking buhay. Nawala ang aking takot, pangamba, at mga inisip patungkol sa kasalukuyang sitwasyon na nararanasan ng mga tao. Nanumbalik ang sigla sa aming tahanan na tulad ng mga normal na araw namin noon. Hinipan ko ang asul na kandila na aking paboritong kulay at nagpasalamat na umabot ako ng labing siyam na taong gulang na kasama ang aking buo at malakas na pamilya.

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LUCK

LOCKDOWN

Kaye Ann Joy Castro

From where I grew up, meals are not just edibles, always, they must be delectable and hearty ones that when served can make people sitting around the table moan, rejoice and call out to God in their every bite. In these homemade meals, I find bonds strengthened as dad praises mom for her unfettered genius in the kitchen, history made as I discover new dishes that apparently are as new as my ancestors but otherwise indelible, and tomorrows anticipated as all looks forward to the next moment they have a taste of another meal prepared with such love and dedication. But I didn’t see my luck until you and I were ought to stay in the confinement of our homes.

I didn’t see my luck until she tweeted, “I’m craving Yellow Cab’s pizza.”

I didn’t see my luck until another tweeted, “I miss Mila’s sisig.”

I Dunkin’

didn’t see my luck until I liked a shared post of Donuts Choco Butternut captioned, “Me want!”

I didn’t see my luck until I realized after I saw every other person’s craving I just tell my sister, “Let’s make pizza,” request dad to grill some pig’s ears and make it into sisig, or ask mom to bake a dupe of Dunkin’ Donut’s doughnuts, and I can enjoy these second-hand cravings without stepping outside. For before, I arrive at home dinner-time, tired and hungry to an already served meal I so long to finish so I can finally go to my room and rest or be tired again with school requirements; I had not the chance to witness the hours of figuring out by the parents which food I’m more likely to enjoy during dinner, the time spent in the market finding cheaper options for the ingredients, the skills used and preparations made all for the meal I am to eat just hastily. Now that I have, the delectable and hearty meals which were always best are now even better.

When

cravings

for

restaurant-bought

food

intensified

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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as people find satisfaction after every satisfaction unfulfilled because of the lockdown situation, I surprisingly found myself unbothered no more of the same cravings I also used to have pre-pandemic because I have been served a home. A home that seeks satisfaction for every meal—satisfaction I sometimes do not even await but still fulfilled where there are times that I am just about to crave it but it’s already served and all mine for the tasting.

A home that confines me yet I thought I do not mind at all.

A home I always wish to share with others—before and someday soon again. This home and homemade meals are the luck lockdown opened me up to, and it’s going to be forever that I rejoice for it and relive the entrapping taste of love and dedication served at a dining table.

Sa Huling Paghigop ng Mainit na Kape John Leslie P. Layug

Malamig na simoy ng hangin, langit na makulimlim, at tahamik na tanawin. Hindi mapakali sa kinauupuan sa balkonahe habang nag-iisip ng kung anong kahihitnan ng nararamdaman. Walang kasiguraduhan, pangamba ang siyang namamayani sa isipan. Hawak ang isang tasa ng kape, iniihipan para lumamig at napapatanong, “tama ba ito?” Lungkot. Tila ba napakahirap ng sitwasyon sa ganitong panahon. Walang sino mang makausap, walang sino mang makwentuhan, wala kahit sino. Bagamat walang tao sa bahay na ito, laptop at selpon ang nagsisilbing kasama ko. Mula pagkagising ko, sila ang kaharap ko. Nariyan ang manunuod ng mga paborito kong BL series na para bang dinadala nila ako sa mundong kailanman hindi ko mararanasan. Mundong puno ng pagmamahal at pagtanggap. Nariyan rin nauubos ko na lahat ng kanta, naisayaw na lahat ng Tiktok challenges na makita, pero hindi pa rin nawawala ang pangamba. Oras na para mag-aral. Mahirap man, ngunit pinili ko pa ring mag-enrol sa semestreng ‘to. Mahirap na, baka mapag-iwanan tayo ng panahon. Kahit hindi alam ang magiging takbo, kakapit nalang ako sa paniniwalang matatapos rin ito. Kasama pa rin ang kape ko, taimtim na nakikinig sa leksyong itinuturo ng aking propesor. Nakalulungkot, datirati ay kasama ko sa classroom ang mga minamahal kong kaibigan -- sila lang naman ang aking nagiging sandigan at nagsisilbing tahanan para takasan ang kalungkutan -- habang lumalamon kahit na binabawalan. Napapaisip pa rin ako kung paano ba ‘to. Kinakain na ako ng lungkot. Wala na akong maisip na libangan. Nakakasawa na rin naman ang araw-araw na nakasanayan. Pero ano bang magagawa ko? Nagbabasa-basa sa mga nakikita sa social media. Walang humpay na pagtangis, walang humpay na pagsigaw sa

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

mga nais. May nakikinig kaya? Bakit parang bingi ang dapat makarinig? Hihigop ng kapeng pang-apat na tasa na yata. Napakasarap talaga. Kahit ako lang mag-isa, kapeng ito ang siyang aking nagsisilbing kasama. Ganoon pa rin. Parehong siklo lang ang araw-araw na ginagawa. Nang mapadpad ako sa isang post sa Facebook, tila ba tinmaan ako sa tapang ng kapeng iniinom ko. Bakit nangyayari ang mga ito? Mga magaaral na pinipiling kitilin ang kanilang mga buhay. Minsan ay naiisip ko ring gawin ito. Wala naman na rin akong kasama sa mundo, sabayan mo pa ng pandemyang hindi na kinakaya ng utak ko. Habang inihigop ang kapeng mainit na kagagawa ko lang, naisipan kong kalbuhin ang ulo ko. Masubukan lang ang bagong hairstyle na ito. Natuwa naman ako. Gabi na at heto pa rin ako kasama ang mainit na kape. Ipinapahinga ko na ang mga mata sa buong araw na pagkatutok sa laptop ko. Ganito pala ang pakiramdam ng online class. Nakakasakit ng ulo, nakakasakit ng mata, at nakakasakit rin ng likod. Hindi pa rin makatulog. Iniisip kung anong kahihinatnan ng mga susunod na araw na mag-isa ako. Nagising ako sa sigaw ni Manong na nagbebenta ng taho. Ilang taon na rin naman noong huling lasap ko ng lasa nito. Tuwa ang siyang bigay ng taho. Sa unang pagkakataon, isinantabi ko ang mainit na kape na siyang katuwang sa umagang malungkot. Panahon na siguro para ibahin ko naman ang mood ko sa panibagong araw na ito. Unang beses akong lalabas pagkatapos nang mahaba-habang lockdown. Dala-dala ang aking laptop, pinili kong lumayo muna sa lugar na araw-araw na nagbibigay lungkot sa aking damdamin. Masaya. Kahit papaano, muli kong madarama ang ngiti, muling masisilayan ang labas, at muling makapupunta sa lugar kung saan ako nagiging malaya. Sa pag-apak ko sa loob ng coffee shop na ito, napakasarap sa pakiramdam na maamoy ang kapeng kay tagal kong ninais malasahan. Nakakatawa ngang isipin na parang hindi ko naamoy ang kape sa araw-araw kong pagtimpla nito. Ano bang pinagkaiba? Kape lang din naman silang pareho. Pero iba pa rin kapag alam mong hindi ka nag-iisa sa paghigop ng mainit na kape. Natapos ang araw na kahit napakaraming gawain sa eskwela ay bitbit-bitbit ko ang saya mula sa paghigop ko ng mainit na kape sa paborito kong coffee shop. Maaaring nakaktawa, pero ewan ko ba, kape lang din naman ang siyang naging kasama. Sa paglipas ng ilang linggo, tila ba iba na ang nararamdaman ko. Pabigat nang pabigat ang puso. Parang sasabog ito. Nagtimpla

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pa rin ako ng mainit na kape at sinubukang isulat lahat ng ito sa notebook na galing sa’yo. Gusto kong kwentuhan ka kahit na alam kong malabo mong mabasa. Pero baka huli na ito. Tara kape tayo. Nagdilim ang paningin ko. Unti-unting lumalabo. Nahihirapang huminga. Matatapos na ata. Sa huling paghigop ko sa mainit na kape, ay siya ring huling paglasap ko sa tapang na mayroon ito. ----------------------------------------------Huli na ako. Habang binabasa ko ang mga nilathala mo sa notebook na bigay ko sa’yo, ay siyang pagtapak ng mga luha sa mga mata ko. Bakit ba hindi ko kinamusta ang kaibigan ko? Bakit ba hindi ko man lang naisip na kailangan mo ng taong gagabay sa iyo? Naaala ko yung araw na yayain mo akong lumabas at pumunta sa paborito nating coffee shop. Hindi kita sinagot. Hindi ko pa rin alam ang magiging reaksiyon sa pag-amin mo. Sa gitna ng pandemyang ito, hindi ko lubos maisip na aamin ka sa nadararama mo sa akin. Akala ko ay tungkol sa kung anong bagay iyang pangamba mo, iyon pala ay tungkol ito sa kung paano ka aamin sa tulad ko.

Huli na ako.

Hindi ko na masasagot ang katanungan mo sa harapan mo.

Huwag ka nang malungkot. Heto at nagtimpla ako ng paborito mong kape. Maiinit-init pa. Halika, sabayan mo ko sa paghigop ng paborito mong mainit na kape. Sana ay nandoon ako sa panhong nag-iisa ka. Sana nasamahan man lang kita. Sana kahit hindi pa ako makasagot, hindi ako lumayo dahil alam kong kailangan mo ako. Mahirap ang mag-isa, lalo na ngayong pandemya. Ngayong wala ka na, hindi ka na makakasamang humigop ng mainit na kape. Pero sana marinig mo pa rin ang sagot ko, “Mahal rin kita.”

Mata, mata, ayos ka pa ba? John Leslie Layug

Marahil karamihan sa inyo ay pagod na pagod na ang mga mata sa maghapong pagkatutok sa inyong mga computer, laptop, tablet, o ‘di kaya cellphone. Walang humpay at walang tigil sa pag-pop ng notifications niyo sa dami ng mga ginagawa sa paaralan. Mahirap ngang tunay na mag online class. Maraming ang oras na sinasakop nito. Pero ang higit na nakababahala, ay ang kalagayan ng ating mga mata. Karamihan sa atin ay naghahangad ng maayos at matataas na grado. Sino ba namang hindi? Sa sitwasyon natin ngayon, mukhang hindi grado ang tataas sa atin -- grado sa mata. Hindi biro ang pagkababad nang matagal sa screen matapos lang lahat ng gawain. Nakaka-miss ngang tunay ang dating pamamaraan ng pagaaral. Hindi puro screen ang kaharap, mga pisikal na katawan ng mga tao ang naaaninang ng mga mata. Masaya. Malungkot. Nakakainis. Nakaka-miss. Naawa ako sa kalagayan ng ating mga mata. Wala silang magawa kung hindi tititgan na lamang ang screen ng buong araw. Mata, mata, ayos ka pa ba? Alam kong hangad niyo na rin silang ipahinga. Walang duda. Kaya ipikit muna natin sila, alalahanin ang nagdaang pagsasama. Kahit maluha ka man, sa kaunting panahon ay iba ang nasilayan ng inyong mga mata. Walang sakit. Walang silaw. Masasaya at mahahalagang araw lang. Nais na ng ating mga matang mamahinga. Pero huwag muna dahil mahirap at malabo pa -- pero huwag sana ang mata ang mas lumabo. Ayos ka pa ba? Marahil ay hindi na. Pero alam ko na iyong makakaya. Laban lang, kaya pa ‘yan ng ating mga mata. Oh, buksan mo na screen mo, tapusin mo pending modules na naiwan sa panandaliang oras

na ang na ito.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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NANAN ME MAN ING PUSA, SUCLAB YA LALAM DULANG Stefanie Janne Chelsea C. Galang

Aro Diyos ko, mate kung mayli kang apu ku. Sambitla ku keng sarili ku anyang pagtuan ayta keng libutad na ning quarantine ayni. Mamutawi pa king sariwa kung isip ing kukulit na kakung i-download ko kanu manibatan Facebook reng bidyo nang Zumba banta mo kanu a-practice ne pa ing Cha Cha na. “Loka, enaka kakatak ken. Mayap pa, magTikTok tana kaya? Magkanta kata o kaya Zumba mayapin,” gulabak na kaku. “‘Po, sigurado ka? Maging tang internet sensations karin!” Gatung ku pa. “E wari, paburitu meng pakanta kaku ing Atin Cu Pung Singsing anyang sipunan ka pa?” Pareu kaming sinagakgak tula oneng anya mu ring segundung ayta, melumud ya ing isip ku kareng memoryang menese at peparagul nung ninu aku ngeni. Angga ngeni, aaaninag ke pa mu rin ing kilap kareng mata nang apu ku anyang paulit-ulit keng pakanta kaya ing Atin Cu Pung Singsing, antinamong akakit na manawa yang kapabalwan ing kakung anak a isip. Susmaryosep, eku na yata abilang kareng darili ku nung pilang besis kuneng pengulit. Pero ni minsan, eke dimdam sinaingsing. Bagkus, ilukluk na pa kanta keng kandungan na kabang bagya-bagya nakung kakawlan king kayang seseseng palsintan para king likwan dang pamana deng kekatamung pipunpunan. At karin ngan sinibul kaku––modernu ya man piblas ing kekatang yatu ngeni, metung ya ing apu ku kareng masikap a manimpan king kambe ning milabasan para king ika-aslag ning kekatang indung pibatan. Bilang metung kayanakan, minusbung ing kirut king kaibuturan ning kakung pusu. King bilis na pulandit ning kekatang yatu, ya namang talustus ning pamalumpawi ning kekatamung kulturang pimamanan

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

king sikluban. Pauli ding makabayung imbensyon ampong makina, etaya ayawat ing pamagbayu. O jo, etaya pin ayawat oneng pwedi tane mang sabayan at gawan instrumentu king pamanaguyud ning kekatang kasalesayan, kalupa na ning pamangaul at pamiagnan ng apu ku king pamagratang ning teknolohiya king kekatang pamibie-bie. Asilip ku king bosis ng apu ku ing tula na atuki naku king byahi pabalik keng keyang akaragulang Pampanga keng kayang pamagkanta para kaku. Ing sulu ning napun king kayang mata ing sisimbulu na eya kabud tinggang aksesurya ing kekatang kultura, ya mu rin ing manaslag sulu king kagimpan para king matagumpeng pamanyulung king miaaliwang aspetu at king miaaliwang dane keti yatu. Ing dalise at silab ning kasalungsungan keti mabilug a yatu, magumpisa yang manaslag kareng taung kalupa ng apu kung ating pusung pupulandit ampong buung–pusung maniwala keng kagiwan da reng kayanakan a maging sandata ning kekatamung pamagbayu, pamanyulung at maging bayung talasese ning kulturang mana. Matalustus ya man ing alun ning biye, o jo, maniwala kung ali tamu mitawli. Malapit-lapit tana king buri tamung pirasnan at maniwala kung sagana ya ing kekatang yatu kareng taung kalupa ng apu ku na masigasig king pamamusni kamulatan kareng kayanakan, magsilbing ambulang kakawul keng talentung kayanakan para king pamanyulung at masugid a managuyud king panimanmang. Kambe ning kulturang kakaul king pusu nang apu ku, reng aliwang taung magnasang itaguyud ini at ing makabayung yatung kekatang tatakbangan, ditak namu ing dalpakan tamu at abatiawan tane ing pasi ning masaganang daratang. Kayari man ning makabang aldo, abe-abe, sabe-sabe tayang indakan ing kulturang Kapampangan at mas lalu ing daguk a atyu keng arap tamu ngeni. “Keni na pin, loka, turwanan mu nakung TikTok,” sambitla na pasibayu.

O jo, tilbugan naku pang apu ku.

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Selda Bente Uno Thomas Jefferson Ovivir

Ika-isang daa’t limang araw na nang magsimula akong akitin ng seldang nagmistulang pahinga. Nakatitig na naman sa blangkong espasyo na unti-unting nagiging pamilyado, bukod sa maninipis na sinulid mula sa gagambang araw-araw na kumukumusta mula sa kawala’t pangamba.

Buntong-hininga, pikit, dilat.

Biglang bumulwak sa kinikinitang imahinasyon ang pagindak ng sining na pinagtagpi-tagpi ng mga tela ng bersikulo at koro, awit mula sa mga balumbong pinagbuklod ng pagmamahal sa sikolohiya noong ika-bente uno. Unti-unting naguhit ang mga imaheng nagsimula sa mga letra’t pagkumpas mula sa pagnanasa para sa serbesa. Ang mga mata ni Helios na sing-talim ng espadang may dalawang-tabak ang siyang bumungad sa aking araw na umapaw sa pagkabalisa, kasabay ng mga seryosong tawa’t halakhak na dala ni geybxx at ng pagkamatamis at sensitibong sisidlan ni Xylaaaa14. Sa isang iglap, pikit ng mata at tunog ng kuliglig, problema’y naibsan na.

Buntong-hininga, pikit, dilat.

Tingin sa kanan, tingin sa kaliwa. TItig sa taas, titig sa baba. Nahanap ko na sa wakas ang santuwaryo ng katinuan at kahinahunan. Isang panawagan katumbas ang pagtapak pataas sa hagdan, isang panawagan katumbas ang paglimot sa masalimuot na nakaraan, isang panawagan katumbas ang pagpahid sa patak ng luhang tumahan at isang panawagan katumbas ang pagharap sa liwanag kinabukasan.

Buntong-hininga, pikit, dilat.

Alas-singko na pala. Tilaok at huni nila ay dinig na. Isang panibagong araw na namang mamumuhay sa selda, sa seldang ayaw ko nang takasan pa dahil sa kanila.

Buntong-hininga, pikit, dilat at magpahinga na sa piling nila.

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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Waiting... Yancy Moron

Waiting is not penitence. It is like gazing your eyes over young stars slowly pulsating and making their light on the uncertainty of the galaxy. Waiting is not hopeless. It is like streaming dew in the morning signifying hope for a new day. Waiting is not one man’s luck. It is like an afterglow in the orange-hued sunset sky, paralleled with gleaming colors, saying that the nearing dawn is a chance. Waiting, while seeing things around, has beauty we forgot to behold.

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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Harvey

Kevin Valen Arcelo The tab was glittering with small candles and bright neon colors. A waft of flowers brewed shadows across the small space. In front of the pixelated screen, the room was live. Against a backdrop of hard pressed custom models, XXX live shows, leather, metal, skin advertisements, and other demanding sceneries, Jasmine was pounced onto her mouse, charming out a smile and keys raining. Wild_Jasmin is online Wild_Jasmin says ;) Wild_Jasmin says hey there guys Kyle says r u starting already? Derek77 *sent a gift* 72blackking sent 5 tokens Wild_Jasmin says just setting up monitor Derek77 sent 20 tokens Wild_Jasmin says oh thank u Derek77 for the gift, I always love it when u visit Rabbit sent 5 tokens Leatherboy sent 10 tokens Lee: hey what song are u playing? Lee: did u get a new monitor? Rabbit says I missed you pimpher says do u do custom shows? Leatherboy says any custom shows? 72blackking says baby u look good alex_zed sent 10 tokens Wild_Jasmin says okay it’s all ready now The eye of the camera is a monolith in front of her. Her orange hair blisses the screen, rude pinks strap onto her. She jets out a kiss. ”How do I look?” she says onto the microphone. Ruzz_zEk says real sexy

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

Derek77 says you look good no matter what Rabbit sent 5 tokens Leatherboy says gorgeous baby pimpher says let me see your ass ”Really? That’s so sweet,” she says adjusting herself from her bed and turning around. Derek77 says what did u do today? Kyle says heard something happened to u Leatherboy says i don’t know what happened Leatherboy says r u doing good? Heard u lost your job 72blacking says damn what? Klint sent 10 tokens She avoids the latter intrusion. ”What did I do today?” she ponders for a while. Her fingers glued to her keys. “Oh wait, well actually…” she says smiling and adjusting the camera. ”Look at this. Just look at my nails for a second. I went to the salon just this morning and just look at how crazy they look,” Kurt_mouth says nails really? can we see your feet Kurt_mouth sent 20 tokens Ruzz_zEk says i think i can see my reflection in there 72blackking says hahahaha Kyle says they look like an actual mirror ”I know right, but to be fair I can’t really see myself in these nails. So they just look like glass,” Harvey *sent a gift* Wild_Jasmin says oh look we have a new visitor hey there Harvey ;) Kurt_mouth says could u show feet? Ruzz_zEk sent 5 tokens Rabbit says just subscribed to you Wild_Jasmin says oh thank you rabbit Harvey says can we do a private show? Krule says private show? Harvey says can we do a private show?

“Harvey you’re really persistent,” she says laughing. “I’m doing a show right now sorry,” Wild_Jasmin says maybe later baby *mwah* Derek77 says don’t call him baby Lee says someone’s a little jealous Derek77 says shut up she’s mine Derek 77 sent 100 tokens Harvey says just 5 minutes Harvey sent 500 tokens Ruzz_zEk damn that’s a lot Lee says 500??? Harvey sent 700 tokens Harvey sent just 5 minutes and you can go back to your show Rabbit says i wanna know what this guy is up to Kurt_mouth says she’s gonna do it she’s gonna do it. ”5 minutes?” Jasmine asked looking at the monitor. “Are you guys like cool with that?” Derek77 says just block that guy off Jasmine he’s a predator Lee says he’s really jealous Krule says Derek77 literally be begging Rabbit says *thumbs up* ”It’s just 5 minutes and I’m like interested to know what he wants,” she says 72blackking says i’m hungry and i mean that both ways but whatever Derek77 sent 500 tokens Derek77 says don’t u do it Jasmine Derek77 says i’ll never forgive u remember those flowers i sent you Lee says just block this guy off already Harvey says i just want to talk Derek77 says shut up pervert Derek77 says jasmine and i have a special connection we always talk Harvey sent 1000 tokens Harvey says just 5 minutes Klint says :0 Rabbit says :0 72blackking says is she doing it? Kurt_mouth says whuuut actually 1000? That’s like 10 minutes off a top

model and she’s just new here 72blackking says girl just do it already Ruzz_zEk says give us an update baby Kyle says tell me what he does to you :) ”I wish I could bring you guys,” she says. “But I really like a man who knows what he wants. Just hold on guys…okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t leave, I’ve got a lot of new stuff that we could go play with. I promise it’s really going to be exciting,” She waits for a few seconds. The blitz of light crackles onto her face. No one has left yet. She sighs for a while and quickly makes the adjustments. The entire screen blanks “PRIVATE SHOW IN PROGRESS.” Harvey enters and the lines pop out. Harvey says hey r u there? Wild_Jasmin says hello hi Harvey says can we cam2cam? Wild_Jasmin says sure sure okay Both screens pop out and Jasmine looks through his. In the bleak darkness, she could only make out Harvey over the silhouette of another woman. ”Wait a minute, Lizz?” Jasmine asks, bewildered and her eyes widening. ”Yes, it’s me,” she answers back. “It’s me Lizz, didn’t expect it did you,” ”Lizz…w-what are you doing here?” ”I-I just wanted to check on you, Jas,” she replies back. “I couldn’t find you after…after you know what happened,” ”How did you find out I was here?” ”Well, I wasn’t seeing you anymore down off the streets, I figured you must have gone out here streaming online by now. Because of…you know… everything that’s been happening around us. A lot of girls are doing this nowadays. I asked some of the girls who you were with because I thought you got sick…and…and they told me you got an account at this site. And… wait…hold on…hey, did you already lose that bruise?” ”What?” Jasmine asks, startled by the word. “Oh, you mean this?” she asks pressing onto the bruise hiding beneath a layer of blush. “Oh no. Not at all…I just…I just got it covered up,” Jasmine says still pressing onto her soft cheek.

”You know, Jasmine…I’m really sorry,” she says. Jasmine doesn’t say a word. ”You know, I gave you those tokens to help you by the way. I got them from a usual customer who was I suppose I would call too willing,” ”This much?” ”Said he was into financial domination. It’s just crazy what kind of men you’ll see out here,” ”But it’s still dangerous Lizz,” ”Don’t worry we were just speaking on the phone,” she replied back chuckling. “You can’t catch it there. But that’s for another time because really though, I…I didn’t really come here to talk about any of that,” She sighs. “I know we haven’t always been good together and you’re probably still angry at me, but I just want you to know that I got your back and I want you to get back on your feet even against all this. I know it’s been hard. This is the only way I could reach you after all…because I know you’d probably never talk to me again,” ”It’s-it’s okay Lizz…those were…those were…tough times…I get it. But it’s been really difficult trying to get everything running again. There’s less customers and no one really wants to be out off the streets or even stay among strip bars anymore,” ”Jas, don’t worry about that. We can help each other. See? We’ll help each other. I’ll keep contact,” Lizz says pressing out a soft smile onto the camera lens. Her kind face revealing. Jasmine leans closer. ”Wait, but how are you doing? Are you-” ”Jas, I’m okay. Don’t worry,” she says. “Later, you’ll just know that we won’t have to be doing this anymore. Come on now. It’s been 5 minutes, I’ll talk after. Take care Jas,” she says and the camera blades empty. sigh.

The screen lets off a jaded black lake of light. Jasmine lets off a

Standing up from her bed she motions onto the moonlit window and the city is still alive, yet there is no commotion in her room. The space is quiet and serene. Her feet swipes onto the carpet and she stares firmly back onto her desktop. Fixing her hair and adjusting her outfit, she lays quietly back onto the warm sheets. A beam of light is swimming onto her skin. The silk of rays beguile...the crisp screen blinks at her.

And in front - an apparition.

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Rico Blanco, Jesus, Videoke, & Me (Pandemic Style) Kevin Valen Arcelo The mustard sofa was bleak and foggy inside the small videoke cubicle. My face tuned out, my teeth chattering, and my hands brutally sanitized. Setting aside my predispositions and inner tragedies, I have made a pact with myself to enjoy the night amidst a probability for a most splendid and cheerful death. Before I got in here, I was racing out of a jeepney and led myself out onto the stray haze of the market place and reeked onto the slices of restaurants and pools of bars, spas, gyms, and seedy corners until I rustled into my local hiding spot. It was here. That plastic tinged building with orange litmus and white paint. I was so merry I almost felt like peeing on the spot. I raced furiously, so roadrunner-ish all up to the stairs that my energy just kept driving and pulling me and pulling me to get there. I’ve never done this before! I thought to myself. My mask and shield loitering and bumping onto my face, just completely sweating, freakish, my hands chattering until I entered in and stepped onto the sham tiles and was greeted by the same place. The strange oriental smell mixed with Lysol, the greeting of spare dust, and the oily magazines lined near the empty waiting blocks of chairs. The stewardess looking at me. The same woman with the brightest red gloss, hyper yellow outfit, and the sharp stabbing hairs. I was panting like crazy and I said “one room please.” Those words made me gulp an entire canal of fear as the stewardess began to stare at me with the look synonymous to “I’m really not sure why you’re choosing this place when you can just sing in your bathroom during a time like this.” But shit, like come on! I mean why does every joy have to feel like such a betrayal? Don’t you get it? I haven’t been out for weeks! Can’t I just open my mouth and sing for one damn second in an open space? I feel so lonely being at home! It’s been a month! Month, I string out of my mouth and it rings in my head like a bullet with a rattle and billow. The cashier lady simply looked at me, still caving

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA AND KRYSTLE EILEN ARCELO

in a smile. Taking out a paper board on the counter, she comes closer. ”Pandemic, sir?” she asked, joyfully handing out the plastic menu.

”W-what?” I asked looking back at her in feign confusion.

”Gimmick, sir?” she said glistening right at me with a wispy chuckle. ”Oh, no, n-not really, I-I mean yes, I kinda just wanted to get out of home for just a…err…second,”

”Okay stop talking you might get me sick,” she answers back.

”W-wait, w-what did you say?”

”I said stop worrying, you might get yourself sick,” she says with near-perfect cheer. ”Oh,” I say wiping the sweat off my face as I cranked and yielded out my face shield. ”I-I’m really sorry that I have to do this, I just feel really sweaty right now,” ”Me too,” she says. “I’ve never been more scared of my life right now. Now that you’re doing that,”

“Oh, well I-”

”No, what I meant to say was I’ve never been more happy in my life right now. Now that we have a customer again,”

“Oh, t-that’s so nice to hear,”

”Not really that probably means you feel very lonely inside since you’re the only one coming in here at this time,”

“Wait, what?”

“I said that probably means you feel very lonely inside,” “Oh, yeah that is what I heard. You’re-you’re… probably right,”

“So, anyway sir, for how many minutes?”

“Okay well that will be P400,”

“Wait, I thought it was P350?”

“The-the usual,” I replied, adjusting my face shield once again.

“Oh,” she says. “I’m changed the prices slightly, get unlimited drinks for

really sorry sir, but we’ve but don’t worry you still the 90-minute duration,”

“Well, I mean it’s just a small change, I guess,” I reply back, taking out my wallet and handing out the money to her. “So what would you like sir? Iced tea, whiskey, coffee, or just water?”

“I think I’d rather just-just have none,”

“Why?” she says her eyes darting straight at me as the cashier register opens. “You think our glasses are dirty? We bleach them you know?” “B-bleach?” ”Yes sir, we clean it very well, but it’s fine if you don’t want any. We completely understand,”

“Oh,” I say.

“Well, anyway sir,” she says, placing the money inside. “We already have it ready. We’ll just tell you when your time is up. You know the drill,”

“Okay. T-thank you,”

My feet swirl around and I carefully open the knob. The fuzzy and small red carpet draped the entire floor. I sit down in that small room feeling every inch of infestation and infection crawl onto me. I mean it smells clean, I think to myself, but it’s the kind of clean that smells like it’s been lived amongst one person to the next. Slowly, I remove my brown shoes ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA and I cough a little. Near the television set, I take the microphone out. The songbook is nervously slumped onto silicate glass and I dare undress it.

I wipe the microphone with some Johnson’s Baby Skincare Wipes which I feel did absolutely nothing to protect me from this choice. I gather myself and I tune the television on with the greasy, shiny, and black remote. Asian

The teen

green girls

light trying

pricked dimly and to “back me up”

I if

see three you will.

Their dances have always been so profuse that I leer away. I attempt to search through a few songs as they start bouncing off the floor. What song should I pick? I think to myself. Panalangin by Moonstar 88? Stickwithu by The Pussycat Dolls? Or maybe Smooth by Santana featuring Rob Thomas? As I sprawled around, just here, in this quiet, mundane space. I feel a strange heat begin to pulse next to me.

“I really think you should pick that one,”

My eyes turn to the left and I feel a beard on my shoulder.

A profane scream.

“Jesus fuc-”

“Hi, it’s me, he goes.

“W-what?” I say.

“I heard you were going to do something stupid today so I came here to protect you from all that,”

“What’s happening? Who are you?”

“Could you be a little quiet?” he said softly. His darklight halo reflexing around like the moon. “If the stewardess hears us, I can’t help you anymore,” he says tapping his knees with his hands.

“Jesus? Wait, is that you? Y-you can’t be here! You’ll get sick!”

“P-please!” he shouts as I rumbled him out of the plastic leather door. “For God’s sake, stop!”

I stood at pause.

“I’m not going to get sick!” he shouts adjusting his supplicating white robe. “For crying out loud, look at me!” he says. “Look at me!” “I’m sorry, I’m just-I’m just really confused right now, Jesus. I-I’ve always been a big fan of you, you know? The-the way you made twelve friends… I-I couldn’t even make four in twenty-five years! Plus not only that, but all of them are just leaving and they just-they just stop communicating, you know?”

“Why? What happened?”

“They got married and started having kids and they couldn’t keep up with me anymore,”

“Oh, well don’t feel bad. I was betrayed by my friend who m-”

“Oh you don’t have to tell that story anymore Jesus. We already know what he did to you,”

“O-oh,” he goes sighing quietly. “Well, do you wanna sing or what?”

“Oh-oh yes definitely. I definitely want to sing with you Jesus,” I go shuffling back to sit down. “You said you wanted this song, right?” Jesus nods.

“Your Universe by Rico Blanco?”

Jesus nods.

“You’re a fan of Rico Blanco?!”

“Yes,”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t say my name like that,”

“Oh…sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

I pressed the numbers on the remote and a swing of jellyfish began swimming across the glacial screen. The chords licked and the stray of sweet ruse began wafting at both of us.

“S-should I sing first?”

“Yes, definitely,” he says smiling at me.

“But you’re already a second late,” “Oh that’s so sweet of you!” “Okay now that’s four seconds late,” “Shit. Hold up. Let me start again.”

As I started the song again, the jellyfish stopped appearing and instead five digitally rendered Asian teen girls started popping out and dancing in front of us.

“It-it’s a thing in videoke here, you know?”

“I think you’re about to be late again,”

“Oh, right,”

As I began to open my mouth, Jesus could and I say definitely could hear my beautiful God-given voice wall the room as I sang: Tell me something, When the rain falls on my face, How do you quickly replace, It with, A golden summer smile? Tell me something, When I’m feelin’ tired and afraid, How do you know just what to say, To make, Everything alright?

“Okay now it’s my turn,”

“But I really wanted to sing that p-”

“You’re going to destroy a perfect moment,” Jesus said as

He stood up snatching the microphone off my still apparently shaking fingers and started singing the chorus. Why are my fingers still shaking? I don’t think that you even realize, The joy you make me feel when I’m inside, Your universe, You hold me like I’m the one who’s precious, I hate to break it to you but it’s just, The other way around, You can thank your stars all you want but, I’ll always be the lucky one.

Afterwards, we began to sing the rest of the song and as we ended, the chords began fading out and the screen slowly turned pitch black. After a few seconds we were greeted by our score.

“74?” Jesus asked in surprise.

“I think it was your fault. You didn’t hit those high notes high enough,” “There were no high notes in this song and that’s a pretty good score, right?” “74?” “I have never had a 74 in my life. I think I only had a 77. When I said to that man to not forgive just seven times, but 77-”

“Yes, we already know that story,”

“Oh,”

“Do you want to play another song?”

“Sure.” For the rest of the ninety-long minutes we simply bedazzled the floor. Dancing against a discoing screen and reaching groundbreaking high notes amongst Mariah Carey’s whistle notes, Beyonce’s bombacious velvety songs, and other close to Catholic-friendly music. By the end of ART Aguillera’s BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA it we were encoring and singing over Christina “Beautiful.”

“Ahh, yeah, yeah! You are beautiful! No matter what they saaaay!

Words can’t bring youuu-uhuuuuuu-arrrrrgggghhhh daaaaaaahhhhhhwn! No-oh-oh! Oh! You are beautifuuuuul! In every sing-le waa-eh-y! Words won’t bring us daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahwn!” “It sounds like you were giving birth there for a second,” Jesus says looking at me nonchalantly.

“Sorry,” I say looking at my 65.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,”

“Wait, why?” I ask with the music still hounding out a beat.

“We’re still not getting anything higher than a 75,” Jesus tells me.

“Well, at least we tried.”

We turned the television off and we sat down on the yellow sofa admiring the blank ceiling. For a few seconds, I simply closed my eyes and dropped the microphone onto the floor. For that mere moment, I almost felt a certain coldness and loss of heat move away from me, and I jotted my head and my eyes quickly trying to see if Jesus was still there.

“Well, did you at least feel any happier?” Jesus asks.

“Oh, you-you’re still here,”

Returning back to his question, I nod. “But I don’t know, I’m just not sure how long it’s going to last though,”

“But why?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well this isn’t going to last forever though,” Jesus says as He began standing up. The premature movement had scared me so much that I rustled my legs and arms as if trying to reach back at him.

“Wait…are you leaving already?”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll always be in your heart,” he says, placing his hands onto it. He makes this expression as if finding a fluffy baby.

“Well, I don’t wanna say this, but can I just be in heaven with you, your dad, and your mom and all those other nice people with God?” I ask in desperation and in a seriously non-blaspehmous kind of way. “Not now. You still have so much precious life ahead of you. If you give it a chance like now, I’m sure there will be more experiences that will provide you with more positive feelings than negative feelings. Just like this,”

I think it was blasphemous.

“But Jesus, I don’t have anything to remember you by. Can we at least have a picture?”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Oh, damn…you don’t appear in the photos,”

“Well, yes,”

“But you have to give me something. Anything!”

A camera flashes.

“Why not...just this moment?” Jesus replies back as he really tries to squeeze it onto me that he’s really not giving me anything. “No, Jesus, that’s not going to work for our human standards. I’m just going to miss you even more,” I say hugging back at Him. I could feel His hands slowly embrace me warmly.

“I’m sorry if I get you sick,”

Jesus sighs.

“By the way, before you leave. Can I just ask a few questions?”

“Sure,” he says.

“Would you eat an apple?”

He sighs.

“Did you make this by the way? You know…all this stuff happen? I

just really want to know,” I ask waving jazz hands out.

He sighs again in utter disappointment.

As the hinges of the door began to crease, I blank and Jesus was gone in an instant. “Sir?” she asks, slowly opening the door. “Did you enjoy your time? It’s already been ninety minutes,”

She looks at me with surreal confusion.

“Sir, are you okay? W-why are you crying on the floor? Sir, the recommended time for only playing sad songs is three minutes. Did you play longer than that? Sir, what’s happening?”

“I-I can’t tell you why,” I say. “You won’t believe me,”

“Sir, don’t worry,” she says kneeling and patting onto my shoulders. “I know your time is up, but maybe you would still like a drink. A little stiff whiskey will help sir! Don’t worry, I will not call anyone to arrest you,”

I look at her straight for a second.

“Because I’m in it too,” she says smiling. “I really need a drink as well. My boss won’t allow me,” “O-okay.” As I stand up and brush my jeans off, she guides me back to the counter and pours us both a few drinks. I adjust my shirt and pants and sit placidly down onto a red stool.

100

She hands me out a small glass still wearing gloves.

”No boyfriend?” she asks, pouring out some wine.

”W-what? I-I’m not-”

”No girlfriend?”

”N-no, it’s nothing like that,” I say taking a small sip. “It’s just that I think I saw Jesus…for a while. Like you know, Jesus Jesus,”

”Jesus?” she asks rather stunned, putting the wine bottle down.

”Yes, Jesus,” I say. Looking unto the pond of red wine, I could see a small image of…of…oh, wait a minute. Shit! Shit!

”He’s waving at me! Do you see him! Do you-”

I left a few minutes later.

I poured the wine all over her by accident.

101

Time Never Stops Rahul Mody

A world anew or maybe not so. punishment for years of injustice to recover the sinking ship but can not

House arrest is the the planet. You may recover the lost crew.

The world teaches a lesson it gives. Greed has no place in this

to respect world of so

you

Time

may

never

stop

but

how

spend

what many. it

can.

There is always a greener side to the diminishing grass. The beauty of perspective embodies humanity. Repenting for the past falls short to future endeavors. Tears go to waste in the face of reality. Time never stops and time never comes back. Productivity and creativity will be everlasting.

Introspection and creation are key to humanity. House arrest is a punishment for those who fail to come to realization. Bring the best version of you. Care and concern are basic human emotion. Mixed with stress and pressure are the basis of life. A time off? This is nothing different. Work from home and work with yourself. has fake

Relationships anew or maybe not so. The pandemic a different face for everybody. You root out the and stick with the real. Like plants except, it’s you.

Time comes and goes leaving you wondering how quickly it went by. Don’t give anything a chance to dictate your own life.

102

You are your own master.

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

103

The crew of the ship doesn’t die in vain. They die in the struggle for helping the passengers on board. The world is healing and so should you. For when it all passes by we will look back. At the history that we were a part of. An angel for some and a devil for others. The beauty of perspective will play again. Roads will clutter, malls will overflow, people will interact, for this is just one of the many ways the world teaches us a lesson. Everyone needs some time to heal. For we’ve become creators, chefs, intellects, readers, critics, etc. all while in our own homes. The grass is greener only if you go to the side where the Sun shines.

104

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105

PA T KA RA HA YU PAN Ma. Rheanna Tuazon Ako ay nahihilo… Naghihingalo… Nakaposas Walang takas Sino ako? At bakit may mga armado? Pilit na lumalaban, sulong atras Kahit pa’y hataw ay bumabakas Sumaliw sa pekeng pastol Pangako’y bayang may pagsibol Ngunit bakit sa bansang sinilangan Ay naghahasik ng kahayupan? Oo nga pala’t ito ang mga pinuno Iniluklok datapwat ay naliligo sa dugo Ngunit dapat bang mawalan ng pag-asa? Sa gayo’y nasa lansangan manggawa’t kabataan? Sa unang sigaw, alam nang ito ang lunas Dahil palahaw ng isa’y palahaw na lumalakas Pagsulong, pantindig, lalong tumitibay Patuloy ‘gang sa tuluyang dinggin ang ingay At ang matakaw, hoy alam ko nang takot ka Sapagkat ang sambayanan ay namumulat na Ang Pilipinas, ay hindi na magpapagapi, kailanman Mula kanino, sa’yo, sakanila, o kanino man Makinig ka, sapagkat akin nang natatandaan Na ako nga pala ang iyong karapatan Ngunit ito ang isasautak at itatanim na binhi, Aahon tayong muli

106

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

107

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109

The Unseen Half Maitri Chavda

Stuck within our minds Trapped under the cage Of angst Spreading faster than ever Coming out of the bed seems harder The sun shine becomes a beam that blinds your sight Inverted minds Eager to head out Can’t feel touch Doomed with the fear Of distance of miles turning into Difference in hearts Drank into the oblivion Of the void we’d be in Runnin’ from the maybes Feeling dark beneath you Misguided That’d be filled By the beauty of the world By the city lights By the rush of work

110

Why see the half of it? And pretend the unseen never existed When the sun sinks under the horizon Bleeding away all its colours It comes up the next day and Startles you as you look Beneath the clouds in heaven The times may be trying Stop thinking that it has doomed you See the other half It has given you time to mend To let the pessimism ungrow To top off the things undone To see the emotions unseen To love the people unloved

ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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110 112

113

Hiraya Manawari

Jovelyn Tabago

Sandaling puno ng katahimikan Nanghihinang katawan at sikmurang kumakalam Sa loob lamang ng ilang hakbang Inabot ang kalupi at nasilayang walang laman Mga mata’y naka titig sa durungawan Isipa’y punong-puno ng mga katanungan Kalooba’y nagtatangis at naguguluhan Kasabay ng mga patak ng ulan na hindi mabilang Bawat paglipas ng mga araw Pag-aalala’y lalo pang nadadagdagan Sa paghaplos sa mga matang luhaan Puso’y nagngingitngit at duguan Dama ang lamig ng haplos ng mga palad, paghapit ng dibdib at kalooban Tila nais humiyaw sa sakit na nararamdaman Dulot ng magkahalong sigalot sa tahanan at sariling isipan Naghahari sa isipan ang mga katagang: “Wala kang silbi at mahina kang nilalang” Kahit anong gawin ay tila ba hindi na kailanman nagiging tama Bawat galaw ay mainit sa mata ng mga taong mapanghusga Salitang namumutawi sa mga labi ay: “Tama na, tama na! Pakiusap tumigil ka na!” Sapagkat ang kalaban ay ang sariling kalooban Dulot ng masasakit na salita mula sa mapanghusgang lipunan Uhaw sa tunay na kalinga at pagmamahal Umaasang may taong malalapitan at masasandalan Ngunit kalakip ng paghahanap Ay ang patuloy na pagka dismaya

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ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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Lingid sa sariling kaalaman Ang hinahanap na tunay na kalinga at pagmamahal Ay hindi sa tao matatagpuan Hindi din sa anumang bagay sa sanlibutan Maliit na bibliya na naglalaman ng maraming pahina Nakapaloob dito ang makahulugang mga salita Isang bersikulo ang nagbigay sa kaniya ng kalakasan Pumukaw sa kaniyang matamlay na kaluluwa Juan 15:9 ang nasilayan Sa tahimik na sulok, ito’y binasa at hinagkan Init ng tunay na pag-ibig ang naramdaman Pag-ibig na walang sino man ang makakapantay Ang luhang puno ng pighati at kalungkutan Ay napalitan ng luha ng kaligayahan Puso’y matapang nang lalaban Sapagkat napunan na ng lahat ng pangangailangan Panibagong umaga nanaman Panibagong pagkakataon at pag-asa ang nakaabang Sigalot sa isipa’y marapat nang isantabi Lakasan ang loob, tumayo, at magsimulang muli Ang butas na bangka ay patuloy na papailalim Ang paglubog ay hindi na dapat pang hintayin Sapagkat bilang indibidwal, kaya mo itong gapiin Maging matapang at ayusin ang suliranin! Pagmasdan mo ngayon ang iyong sarili Siyasating maigi ang iyong silbi Habang ika’y nabubuhay dito sa mundong ibabaw Hindi ba’t kayrami mo nang natulungang halaman? Kaibigan, sa simpleng paghinga mo Ika’y naglalabas ng karbon dioksido Sa bagay na iyon tunay ka nang kamangha-mangha Ano pa kaya kung ika’y magpupursigi at magiging produktibo? Patuloy kang mangarap Patuloy kang magsumikap Lagi ka Niyang tutulungan Dedikasyon at paniniwala ang gawin mong puhunan Laging pakatatandaan Sa kabila ng hirap at kawalan Mayroong liwanag na masisilayan Huwag kang sumuko, kaibigan, pagtagumpayan mo ang laban!

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Kaya mo! John Leslie Layug

Andito tayo sa mundo Lahat tayo ay isang laro. Hindi alam sa’n tutungo, Makakaya ko pa ba ‘to?

Alam ko na kaya mo, Abutin ang nais mo. Huwag kang sumuko, Labanan ang laro.

Tila ba wala ng gana, Nawawalan rin ng saya. Hindi pa ba matatapos? Umaaayaw na sa agos.

Hindi ito imposible. Alam kong ito’y pwede. Bumangon ka, Abutin mo na Ang nais mo!

Dinidiktahan sa gagawin, ‘Di maabot ang naiisin. Parang mga robot tayo, Minaninipula ng mundo.

Unos ay dumarating Hadlang sa minimithing hangarin. Parang hinaharangan, Ang nais na makamptan.

Saan ba ‘to patungo, Kung lahat ay isang laro. Wala bang mananalo? Kahit na imposible ‘to . Umaayaw na sa hangarin, Kalayaan ang nais hilingin. Bakit malabong mangyari, Bakit wala na sa sarili. Bumangon ka’t tumayo, Mahalin ang sarili mo. Huwag hayaang mag-iba, Ang tingin sa mundo.

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Mga batong ipinupukol, Sa nais ay tutol. Bakit ba ganito? Ang gulo ng mundo. Walang magawa, Heto at nakatunganga. Wala nang pag-asa, Hindi na mangyayari pa. Bakit ganyan si Bathala? Ayaw itong magtugma. Nais ko lang makamit

ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

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Hindi naman ipinipilit. Umaayaw na sa hangarin, Kalayaan ang nais hilingin. Bakit malabong mangyari, Bakit wala na sa sarili. Bumangon ka’t tumayo, Mahalin ang sarili mo. Huwag hayaang mag-iba, Ang tingin sa mundo. Alam ko na kaya mo, Abutin ang nais mo. Huwag kang sumuko, Labanan ang laro. Hindi ito imposible. Alam kong ito’y pwede. Bumangon ka, Abutin mo na Ang nais mo! Kahit na mahirap, Piliting magsumikap. Walang imposible, Sige lang nang sige. Kaya mo ito! Abutin ang nais mo!

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Vest Trisha Mae Chu

I was on a ship heading to nowhere With the people I know and I don’t as well The ocean was calm, until the storm came The ship was facing a huge struggle The waves became angry and strong, The ship was about to wreck and fall I felt uneasy, I was nervous inside My heart beats fast, I am about to cry I was afraid that I might die I couldn’t find a way to save my life The helplessness I felt, I can’t deny But I knew I can do my best to try Suddenly a life vest fell in front of me My nerves became calm, I had less to worry It had a mark that says “it’s okay” I had the hope I’ve been looking for along the way I had the courage to jump from over the board While asking for guidance from the Lord I had onto the vest as tight as I can Hoping it could save my life until the end All turned black, I can feel the tears on my face I wonder if I was drowned or if I was saved I lost my consciousness but I am crying Will this be the end of my living? Then I opened my eyes, there was a woman in my sight Saying the words repeatedly - “it’s okay, don’t cry” I embraced her and I felt the peace inside She was the vest I had on my dream, I realized

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ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO AND KEVIN VALEN ARCELO

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Before the crisis Dorothy Ann Rae Reyes

The sky is clear, The day is bright, The wind whistles softly, The breeze caresses my skin tenderly, Such a beautiful day, Yet, I am most struck by its ignorance, It is oblivious of the besetting devastation, And the masses’ struggle, The warm and vibrant days, now gone, As we are forced to stay inside, Fearful of the world outside, We can only wait for what is to come, These days my train of thought wanders, To memories of mine that now feel so surreal, The times where I shared a laugh, Only serve to make me sad, My thoughts remain adrift, Will these hard days really be over? Months have passed, It has all been a blur, Yet I still feel hope, For tomorrow will come, Where a dark cloud comes, So does the sun

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ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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The Spur of Memento Ann Clarise Mercado

Laid my back at the fresh mowed lawn, With a hopeless heart, agonies pulled me down, I closed my eyes, Forget the present and reminisce about the past. I remember the day you drove me to my first gala, Telling me I’ll be the most stunning lady of the night. For every awarding ceremony, I always heard your applaud and proudly say “hurrah!” And my heart melts every time I see how your smile is so bright! Your coffee was the finest I’d ever sipped, Your lullabies that always put me to a comfy sleep, All of our terrific carabao ride, And every single joke we laughed at. Those memories will never fade, Even your name is carved on that grave. You’re now an angel from above, That still embraces us with love. I then opened my eyes. Take a deep breath. Getting motivation from a wonderful memory is surely nice, Recollecting my grandpa’s memento to fight until the last breath.

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ART BY KIAN FRANCIS PERALTA

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Eureka! Angelo Fernandez

Eureka! I found it Without even searching Without even trying I found myself Eureka! I whisper quietly Over the soundless victory The triumph that I’d crossed I found comfort Eureka! I tell myself Amidst the anxiety In the middle of this chaos The comfort of family Eureka! I found it After all this time I found a home The house is not just a house anymore

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ART BY CHRISTLE ANN BERNARDO

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