6 E N V I S I O N
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D U G O ‘T P U S O N G P I L I P I N O
P I L I P I N O A K O N A N I N I N D I G A N
S A G I T N A N G
P A G S U B O K
W A K E M E U P W H E N Y O U A R E L E A V I N G
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H U L I N G T U L A P A R A S A T A O N G K U M A W A L A
T H E
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R E T U R N O F S O M E O N E S P E C I A L
38 36 M I S S I N G P I E C E
E L V E S I N
I S O L A T I O N
JULY
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Express yourself; Share your feelings; Impart your thoughts.
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ENVISION by Jane Marie Sarmiento
As the beam of light touches my face, I slowly opened my eyes to start another day. One touch on my phone and the screen bombarded me with recent issues arising in social media. The sight I see reminded me that every single day feels like a room for new sets of destruction, discrimination, and corruption. But before I could let the negativities overpower my mind, the thought of doing productive work the night before came into mind. General cleaning. Clothing alteration. Video editing. Recipe experimentation. Stuff decluttering. File organization. As well as trying new things. Indulging in different arts; of literature, of music, of graphics, and the like. Much to my dismay, after 10 hours, I’m back on my bed again. I have only done some cooking and writing for today but that’s okay. The whole world is facing a discreet foe that has discouraged many. Thoughts are jumbled, bodies numb as souls asleep. No single being who recognizes this pandemic worries none. I haven’t accomplished much today but that’s okay. Letting out a heavy sigh, a post of a hardworking delivery man caught my eye. As I scrolled down the feed, a series of blessings were shared; donations and stories of good will. With a hand on my crucifix pendant, both ends of my lips curved upward as I muttered, “There’s hope.”
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Photo by Clint Elbe De Guzman
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Photo by Sam Patrick Villena
Photo by Sam Patrick Villena
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The Death Of An Old Me by Princess Mika Jean Gaudianoo
My world was once happy, Not until a pandemic imprisoned me. Questioning the government I used to envy; For showing many people love and empathy. Obliged by their rules, Hoping this nightmare would not last. Afraid I could never go back to who I was. I longed for freedom, wanting to venture out, Nevertheless, outside was facing fray. If I come back, many will doubt. Loneliness became my ally; Stuck at home, waiting for days to pass by. The absence of gala almost drove me crazy, I needed company yet I ignored my family. My sangfroid was disappearing, I went astray. My home remained strong, Together they pray. I was wrong, But it did not take long, For me to see that home is the key. A paradise on earth; That sheltered me right after birth. The life I once rocked, Is nothing compared to a chapter I have unlocked. I never knew myself back then, Home is the reason I became open. Loneliness left me, And progress entered my whole body. I have to be able to, as days go by, Look at myself straight in the eye. I don’t want to stand at the setting sun, And blame myself for the things I have done. I am unsure of what lies ahead, But I am certain; The pandemic somehow did good to me. As being stuck at home with family, Was the beginning of an anew journey And the death of an old me.
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AUGUST
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Ibahagi ang mga saloobin, Ipahiwatig ang bugso ng damdamin, Ipakita ang bawat talento, at Ipagmalaki ang wikang Filipino.
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Dugo’t Pusong Pilipino by Jane Marie Sarmiento
Lingid sa kaalaman ng kakaunti, Kariktan ng wika’t kulturang ibinahagi, Ipinalaganap ng ating mga katutubo, Humubog sa sambayanang Pilipino. Malalalim na salita, mahirap mang bigkasin, Minsa’y komplikado, kay hirap ring baybayin Ngunit ang tamis at epekto, ansarap pakinggan, Kahanga-hanga ang dulot at pinanggalingan. Sari-saring lenggwahe sa iba’t ibang rehiyon, Isang salita, iiba ang kahulugang baon; Bigkas at baybay, halos hindi magkatulad, Kakaiba ang hatid ng bawat bungad. Paggalang, katatagan at kagandahang-loob matatanaw Sa bawat pagngiti kalakip ang mga salita at galaw, Pagbanggit ng po at opo kasabay ng pagyuko, Hindi pagsuko sa pangarap at pagbabanat ng buto. Marami mang pagdaanan, iiyak nang madalian Madadapa, ngunit babangon at sarili’y itatahan. Kahit gayong may kinakalabang pandemya, Taas noong hinaharap ang problemang kinakaya. Sa lahat ng mga frontliners, saludo po kami, Ang kaanib na makabagong mga bayani, Dumaragsa sa panganib para makamit ang kaligtasan. Tila walang pinipiling tyempo, tuloy ang bayanihan.
Kuha ni Clint Elbe de G
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Guzman
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Grapiko ni Abrielle Kaye Barayoga
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Pilipino Ako, Naninindigan ni Aliah Abayon
Tila ba bumabalik tayo sa nakaraan, Umiikot pabaliktad ang orasan Kung saan marami ang takot mangatwiran, Pinipiling itikom ang bibig sa katotohanan. May iilang dumadaing sa nasasaksihan, Sa matinding pinagdadaanang kahirapan ng bayan Subalit hindi man lang sila pinakikinggan, Para bang ang mga pakikiusap nila ay tinatalikuran. Hindi lamang ako kabataang nabibilang sa lipunan, Tinatahak ko ang landas ng katapangan. Walang kahit sino ang didikta sa aking pinaniniwalaang Tayong mga Pilipino ay dapat may paninindigan. Hindi ko nais ang magbulag-bulagan Kung alam kong ang aking pagkaPilipino ay natatapakan. Pinaglaban ng aking bayani ang aking kalayaan Kaya ngayon, ako naman. Kaya bilang Pilipino, huwag na sana nating hayaang Maulit muli ang sugat ng nakaraan Kaya ang aking katanungan, Sasama ka ba sa pagkamit ng may pag-asang kinabukasan?
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Sa Gitna ng Pagsubok ni Nherwyne Jude Yusoya
Nakatatak na sa libro ng tradisyon nating mga Pilipino, Lalong-lalo na sa mga kapwa nating Katoliko Ang ipagdiwang ang kuwaresma at semana santa, Panahon ng pag-aayuno at pagpapakumbaba. Mula sa paglagay ng abo sa’ting noo, Palatandaang sa katapusan ng buhay, tayo’y babalik sa abo, Hanggang sa linggo ng muling pagkabuhay ni Hesukristo, Paalalang may panghabambuhay na naghihintay sa dulo. Ngunit sa isang kisap, maraming naglaho’t nagbago, Bawal na ang salo-salo at manood ng paboritong senakulo, Sapagkat ang malayang bayan, nadapuan ng pandemya, Talagang sinubok ang kaniya-kaniyang pananampalataya. Nag-iba man ang nakaugaliang selebrasyon ng kuwaresma, Hindi naman naging imposible sa tulong ng teknolohiya, Makinig lang sa radyo o telebisyon, makasisimba na ang buong pamilya; Ang mahalaga naman ay matatag ang ating paniniwala. Malaki man ang pagsubok na dumating sa’ting buhay, Tiwala ay palakasin at sarili’y patuloy na ibabangon, Sapagkat darating ang panahon, katulad ng ating Panginoon, Laban sa kamatayan, tayo ay magtatagumpay.
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Grapiko ni Xavier Romeo Emnace
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Express yourself; Share your feelings; Impart your thoughts.
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SEPTEMBER
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Wake me up when you are leaving by Jee Fritz Michael Panton
Wake me up When the sun sets off When there’s no light There’s no you to hug me tight. Wake me up When the moon rises up When you leave me behind In my undefined realm. Wake me up And give me a sign That you and I will Never shine again. Wake me up So that we can talk Every single thought We have in mind. Wake me up And let’s take a walk, Talk every miserable thing In our life before leaving Each other behind.
Graphics by Benz Christian Minan
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nga
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OCTOBER
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Heartstrings, Sentiments, Fervor; Uncage the muted uproar.
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LETTER by Melody Joy Lumauag
Love, Gone were the days of mirth when I used to hold your hand. I guess forgetting the painful memories were the hardest part out of all of this. I just then realized that we aren’t supposed to forget anything, but to remember. I must admit, the feeling of your face meeting mine, your laughs-- which according to you isn’t discernibly pleasing in any way was my own kind of music, despite the next-door neighbor’s persistent protests. We were the happiest we could be, and I guess we were too stuck with our own happiness to think of anything else... the thought of you leaving me, for example. I confess I never really got over anything. Years have passed and I still cry myself to sleep sometimes. You’d probably laugh at how weak-willed I am, but I am pleased to say that I’ve been better than I was years ago. I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re in a better place than I could ever imagine. What’s it like? I wish you could spare me a detail or two. But I guess that’s just pushing it too far. Time sure erases all wounds but I wonder if it really wipes away the ache or maybe just the memories. I don’t want that. I want to be able to remember for as long as I’m alive. Love, as I write this letter, know that I try. I try to recover. I try to be better for myself because I know you’d want that. I hope an angel comes and delivers this letter for me, for I cannot join you there yet. I instead carry the hope of being able to gaze at your face again. I do not fret anymore, love, for there is no earthly sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. Yours Truly, A Lover Photo by Jemeah Libo-on
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Huling tula para sa taong kumawala. ni Jeaniever Rose Morales
Hindi ko nga lang alam paano uumpisahan Ang ating istoryang pilit mong nililihisan. Kaya bago muna magsimula ang lahat, nais ko sanang ika’y tanungin, Naging totoo ka ba sa akin? Ito na ang huling tula, para sa’yong pilit na kumakawala; Ako’y iyong binalewala, Ni hindi ko alam kung ano ang aking nagawa; Sa isang iglap bigla ka na lamang nawala. Hindi ka man lang nagsabi, Na iyon na pala ang huling gabi. Edi sana, nasabi ko pa ang mga katagang matagal ko nang nais sabihin sayo gabi-gabi. Pero may magagawa ba ‘yon para hindi ka lumisan ng tuluyan? O mas lalo ka lang lalayo kapag sinabi kong “Mahal na kita, kaya sana wag mo akong iwan.” Ni hindi ako nabigyan ng pagkakataon Para aminin sa’yo na may nararamdaman akong ganoon. Naghintay ako, kahit alam kong nag-aaksaya lang ako ng panahon. Umasa, kahit na alam kong hindi na nga mapagbibigyan ng pagkakataon. Ang dami dami kong gustong sabihin, tanungin. Kahit na alam kong babalewalain mo lang din Kung alam ko lang na ito ang patutunguhan, sana hindi ko nalang mas pinalalim. Edi sana hindi ako nasasaktan ng palihim. Ang sakit naman, hindi ka man lang nagpaalam. Kumawala ka nalang na wala akong kaalam alam. Ang daya naman, hinding hindi mo ba ako magugustuhan? Eto na ba talaga ang sinasabi nilang “ighoghost ka lang din naman niyan!” Kung eto na nga, sige na. Hahayaan na kita. Ito na ang magiging huling tula, Para sa’yong pilit na kumakawala.
Sining ni Abrielle Kaye Ba
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arayoga
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NOVEMBER
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Up above, My eyes drift, Longing for your presence, Hoping you’d hear my heart’s content.
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Kuwadro ni Abrielle Kaye Barayoga
Papel, pinta, brush, lapis at bolpen; kumpleto na ang mga gamit. Heto na naman ako, nagpipinta ng mga bagay, pinipilit na hindi kalimutan. Bawat kulay, bawat kumpas ng kamay, bawat hugis at bawat imaheng nakapagpapahayag ng damdaming nakatago upang mabawasan ang kinakandong emosyon sa puso kong unti-unting lumulubog. Inaabangan ko palagi ang araw na ang aming pamilya ay tutungo sa lugar na may asul na tarangkahang sa loob ay may simpleng bahay at berdeng jeep na nakaparada. Kapag papalapit na kami sa tarangkahan ay magtatahulan ang mga aso kung kaya’t dali-dali siyang pupunta na parang bayaning nakakapang magliligtas sa aming magkakapatid, siya ang lolo ko. Ngunit, nung lumipas ang mga taon, namalayan kong unti-unti nang nawawala ang kanyang lakas upang pumunta sa tarangkahan. Dumalang na rin ang pagbisita namin kaya nakikibalita na lamang kami sa aming tiyahin at sabi niya, nagkakasakit na raw si lolo’t lola at lumulubha na raw si lolo. Lumipas ang ilang buwan at biglang isang araw, nag-chat si mama, “Wala na si tatay.” Nagulat ako. Hindi ko mapagtanto kung ano ang gagawin ko, hanggang sa pumatak na nga ang unang luha, na sinundan ng isang magdamag na pagiyak, na sinundan ng mga pagbugso-bugsong paghihikahos tuwing naalala ko siya dahil nanghihinayang na hindi nakapagpaalam at nakapagsabing mahal ko siya. Ngayon, huli na dahil alaala na lamang niya ang natitira. Kaya’t heto ako, pinipinta ang mukha niyang kailanman ay mananatili sa aking puso at isipan. Mukha at alaalang kailanman ay hindi ko makakalimutan at mapag-iiwanan.
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Sining ni Gabriel Delima
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Photo by Jemeah Libo-on
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The Return of Someone Special by Geryne Velasco
“My idea of a perfect Christmas is to spend it with you” -Perfect Christmas (Jose Marie Chan) The sweet melody of the music reverberates, echoing the Christmas spirit like a gentle breeze in a chilly night of December. Hearing the song felt different this year. It’s bizarre, as if there’s an abyss of mystery hidden by the usual jolly mood of Christmas. On the solace, lavender floral sofa nestled a little lad with a teddy bear nuzzled close to his heart. He gazed out the window, eyes shining as tears reflect the colorful blinding lights of the lanterns, totally contradicting his anguish at the very special day of Christmas. He sobbed back his tears and wiped it with the hem of his cute striped sweatshirt that was given on Christmas day by his parents. His parents are frontliners and the little boy knows that they’re still busy saving lives and probably can’t come home before Christmas eve. But little did he know as he mixed the batter at the kitchen, his parents were already at their gate exchanging words with her nana. Not a minute had passed, they decided to go to the kitchen and there, tears flooded, symbolizing their happiness. “We love you, dear,” his father and mother whispered to his ear. There, Arnulfo was able to grasp the responsibilities and sacrifices many frontliners like his parents have to make and accomplish to save lives of those people they don’t even know. Even if it costs their time with their families or perhaps, their lives. “Come on everyone, let’s eat fruit cake and celebrate Christmas,” the lady suggested smilin. They took seats individually and happily celebrated Christmas with each other’s warmth as the song “Perfect Christmas” echoes not just in their fruit cake-smelling room but it also echoes in their hearts.
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Lights of hope, of anticipation; Joy that lingers along The skies, thy eyes; A pair of a thousand words unsaid.
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DECEMBER
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Photo by Sam Patrick Villena
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Missing Piece by Jane Marie Sarmiento
Holding one of my life’s treasures, a drop of translucent aqueous crystal escaped my eye. Oh, how I wish the image I’m embracing is a real figure and not just a memory of what seems to be yesterday’s goodbye. As I listen to voice recordings of simple calls, of roleplay practices, and of random goofiness, I can’t help but smile and cry. Oh, how I miss that thin cute voice of yours that you suddenly tune into different ranges. Our cheesy duets as I glued your costume together, little fights that brought drama to passersby, stolen glances that almost melted the other, silent moments screaming everything, these and a lot to even mention could never squeeze enough into my short-term memory. Did I mention the long walks taken for another set of musical adventure, the genuine laughs shared within the four-walled vicinity with missing doors, the spontaneous jamming sessions, and everything else? These remind me of the before that we cannot take back. We cannot have back. At least for now. Sitting by the staircase at the porch, I stared at the gate across me. There on that spot, I reminisce how you surprised me with a visit and loads of ice cream. There, you waited for me, asked for my mom’s permission, and met my father. There on that same spot, you fetched and made sure I get home safe. It is always that spot as if it is rehearsed for stage blocking. But also right there and then, we bid our farewells. Reminiscing the happy and the not-so in one sitting made me shiver in cold and sadness all of a sudden, but still I sit still, wishing I could feel your warmth this Christmas.
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Elves in isolation by Justin Nico Guevarra
“He is infested with the plague?!” shouted Tappy, the working elf, to the elf doctor who emphasized the condition of their beloved Santa. “Stomachache, rather,” Dr. Klensy corrected. Relieved, the elves continued shaping gifts with finely made Christmas decors. “An ailment to all, for those magnificent gifts need to be delivered. However, Santa gave the opportunity for elves to embark on a great sleigh adventure! Unfortunately, the elves fear the followers of Krampus. It is rumored that encountering one would lead to slaughter!” After finishing the volunteer documents at Santa’s big office, Tappy went straight towards the runway where Santa’s majestic sleigh was with a sitting elf, Pep, his mission companion. Under the guiding northern stars, the two flew and later landed on the streets, no man nor a follower of Krampus within vicinity. With a flick of Tappy’s finger, their ride turned into a modern car with reindeers as dogs. Pep turned themselves into common men, going into a human’s home with an excuse of plumbing and their proclaimed toolboxes. The atmosphere was a bit hostile with wild teenagers and upbeat music screaming. “Madness! They’re breaking health guidelines!” Tappy whispered. “We must end this,” Pep was determined. Mysteriously, they sensed sinister, concluding that the
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teens sensed not as they were having their merry Christmas. Tappy decided to seek the negativity, shouting, “Partying face to face is dangerous! Go home!” The music and teens stopped with looks of irritation and one strange red-eyed youngster stood on the refectory table with his red eyes looking as if these could drag a soul to the painful void. “These old men are just jealous of our fun. Enjoy before we regret it!” he said proudly as the crowd cheered momentarily. “That regret will last shortly. You’ll regret even more while catching the disease! This will spread... infecting your loved ones. Do all of you crave death?” Tappy asked. Everyone went silent but Clipp’s ego wavered, trying to oppose. “They’re right,” the home owner’s daughter stepped in. “Everyone, leave!” All human visitors went off, guilty, as Clipp was frustrated and mad. The female teen, however, was grateful for enabling her to come to her senses. Tappy and Pep placed their “toolboxes” underneath the family’s Christmas tree. “Well, t’was one intense experience of my elven life!” Pep exclaimed. Proud of their achievement and no longer scared of the darkness, off they go to their next action-packed adventure as bright carol bells of this dark Christmas.
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Graphics by J Eugene Christian Jolito
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Editorial Board Hazel Lorraine G. Herida Editor-in-Chief John Lester T. Trafiero Associate Editor
Esther Joyce M. LimbaĂąa Managing Editor
Desk Editors Abbey Gale D. Cordero News Editor Josh Aldrich B. Diola Sports Editor Melody Joy D. Lumauag Feature Editor Jane Marie P. Sarmiento Literary Editor Abrielle Kaye S. Barayoga Graphics and Layout Editor Jan Faith S. Ramos Multimedia Editor
Joy Q. Borcelas, MAEd Cluster Head, Research (With Publication)
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Staff Writers
Mary Kate Carmona Jopay Dante Keziah Patrice Jocson Hannah Lavadia Kristen Thea Lozada Nathalie Ortillo Thea Jonieben Salvador Ariane Diane Tagulalap
Xavier Romeo Emnace Gabriel Delima Graphics Artists J Eugene Christian Jolito Krisha Lei Cordova Patricia Ayessa Fuentebella Princess Alexis MoraĂąa
Layout Artists
Lance Joshua Satojito Vanessa Tortal
Feature Writers
Krystel Felicisimo Pauline Mae Jurisprudencia Jaira Panaguiton Karen Shyne Silva
Literary Writers
Alexandra Dean Beya Catrine Garbanzos Lovernne An Montales Geryne Velasco Nherwyne Jude Yusoya
Photojournalists
Clint Elbe De Guzman Jemeah Libo-on Ashlyn Villarias Sam Patrick Villena
Cartoonists
Breia Ysabel Lizada
Videographers
Janus Esportuno Larie Shem Natal Justin John Velez
Contributors
Aliah Abayon Princess Mika Jean Gaudiano Benz Christian Minanga Jeaniever Rose Morales Jee Fritz Michael Panton
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