Laom Folio - Yaon 2021

YAON is the literary folio of The Gold Panicles, the official student publication of Caraga State University - Main Campus.

“Yaon” is a Filipino word that means, “there is”. It is a reflection narrating that there is a story inspired from people in different walks of life.

These stories are originally translated and interpreted by the scribes and artists of The Gold Panicles and its contributors. No original work of art shall be used nor published without the permission of its authors.

Editorial Board Editor-in-Chief Literary Editor Creative Director Managing Editor Photography Director Illustrations Director Photographer Illustrator Layout Artist Chief Adviser Technical Adviser - English Technical Adviser - Filipino Technical Adviser - Visuals

Arvin Buyser Milkah Lei Bungaos Vernon Jio Viajar Renante Tabudlong Nicole Light Villabeto Rafaella Utrera Weljun Gallardo David Herrera Vernon Jio Viajar Enrique Taragua, Ph.D Meldy Acabo Cristine Mae Pernito Engr. Isagani Roma Jr.

Foreword Life hauls us to manifold experiences that are retold in various ways, some through dance, a few by painting, and others into words through writing. Everyone has stories to tell — displaying the reality of life and of being human: to live, love, and learn.

The current Covid19 outbreak has had severe psychological and sociological consequences on the general public. It affects the psychological well-being of those most vulnerable, such as college students and health care employees, who are more prone to acquire post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, depression, and other distressing symptoms.

This folio encapsulates the drastic transitions of life in this time of pandemic and imprints suppleness and solidarity amid adversities — expressing the people’s need to break free from the binds of COVID19. It is an exhibit of how they managed to conquer the confrontations of life, bringing “paglaom” to the readers as to whatever they have been through — manifesting a better tomorrow.

May we see the picturesque beauty of this folio as we flip through the pages, and seek the light hiding beneath the words and the art.

Arvin B. Buyser Editor-in-Chief

Contents 2 LAOM 3 Saving Grace 5 Afterall, It’s Home 7 Walang Siguro 9 What’s inside a Front-liner’s Mind?

11 Emergence Is On Its Knees 14 Padayon 17 BOYET 21 BULAG 23 LAYLAYAN

25 To Find the Light…

27 En Passant 29 ONE LAST RHYME 32 Non-fictional Heroes 33 JULY’S SUMMER 34 NOVEMBER’S HOPE 35 Commonplace 38 Musings 40 Silent Passages

1 | LAOM

PHOTO | WELJUN GALLARDO

Laom

Ethereal Crescent I knelt before them Beseeching with my sealed lips Caught with the raindrops of the soul Offering the shattered slivers of my heart.

All I see is darkness, and here I dwell Born, out of the fury of their hearts Shaped, out of the judgment of their dreary eyes.

I fear their names I fear the sound of my blunders blowing over their proud throne It kept me latched me in a thorny crucifix.

And then, someone spoke A sound that gives birth to the sky A music that brought the ocean to waver And His name—was beginning and the end.

He picked up the shattered heart that I had extended Calmed the screaming soul in me Unstitched my sewn lips and Brought me to my sinful feet.

And in exchange of the glass heart, He named me Laom, a light that would never fade A shining soul that would never be filled with darkness For I— Laom, is the hope of the world The lantern of your paths Fear not the darkness, nor the grief But celebrate the light of my present.

LAOM | 2

Saving Grace Marwenette Dalagan

They say Angels have wings,

laced with beaming lights.

Halos crafted from the same gold out the heaven’s gates.

That was a lie.

Angels live amongst us.

They roam the same grounds you are standing on.

Sometimes they even go unnoticed.

I think angels are shapeshifters,

Taking more than just one form.

To be clear, this is not a love poem, to romanticize your sacrifice.

there is nothing holy about being

humanity’s only salvation, our saving grace.

This is an ode to the fallen,

But never forgotten, even if the weight of this world lies heavy on your weak and weary bones,

you carry them like wings.

This is for everyone who has placed their lives on the line in exchange for ours.

Surrendered the safety of their own homes for our service.

From a world that often forgets,

that sacrifice means survival.

This is an ode to a nameless future, No one knows what the great unknown holds All we have is the forward, All we know is the certain, everything is fleeting, This Too Shall

Pass.

You are not alone, together we will march forward and

fear no future.

3 | LAOM

PHOTO | VERNON JIO VIAJAR

LAOM | 4

Afterall, It’s Home A window welcoming wind, a door demystifying dim; the corners standing them, the bodies building the corners; they named it Haven as if it is for others When the sky cry before the threshold, it is deemed to be, it is ought to be -a sanctuary But recall the long gone yesterday today, when with somebody she ran away and everyday he reeks of alcohol while you study.

Poor toddler -- deprived of her warmth in your tiny hand.

It’s not creeping out as Edgar cried -- the grains of the golden sand.

Hoping for home outside the house, you venture across strange land.

Dangling on broken branches, how would you fix the rotten roots?

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way farther from this tree.

But the tied strings pulled you back stronger, never set you free.

Your footsteps rejoices the wind and the birds.

Giggling toddler on his arm and longing eyes to yours is cast Your chest clenched, eyes blurred but clear now that -- you’re home, at last

5 | LAOM

PHOTO | ERICO C. CALUMBA

LAOM | 6

Walang Siguro Ian Khem G. Juntilla

Sa panahong hindi natin inaasahan May mga taong naging daan upang sakit at pangamba natin ay maibsan Mga taong buhay ay inilagay sa kapahamakan Mga taong habang buhay nating igagalang at pasasalamatan.

Mga taong piniling paglingkuran ang sariling bayan Upang pandemya’y matuldukan at pamilya’y muling maalagaan Mga dakilang front liners kung sila’y tawagin Kamataya’y kanilang susuungin upang mundo’y muling paghilumin.

Araw-araw nilang dinadala ang responsibilidad at pasakit Gabi-gabi silang di makatulog dahil sa trabahong sa kanila ay nakakabit Walang minutong hindi sumagi sa kanilang isip ang mahawaan Dahil sa bawat segundong lumilipas alam nilang wala silang kasiguruhan.

Bantay doon, bantay dito Dakip doon, dakip dito Lakad takbo, yan lang ang kanilang naging araw-araw na ehersisyo At sa maling hakbang na kanilang gagawin, buhay ay mapipiligro.

7 | LAOM

Maswerte ang iba dahil nasa bahay lang sila Maswerte ang iba dahil makakapiling nila ang kani-kanilang pamilya Maswerte sila dahil hindi mataas ang tyansang mahawaan sila ng pandemya Ngunit ang mga dakilang ito, mataas na nga ang tyansya, di pa nila makakasama ang pamilya.

Marami sa kanila ay nahawaan na, yung iba patay na Ngunit di sila tumitigil na magbigay lunas kahit buhay nilay maaganas na Marami sa kanila’y nawawalan na ng pag-asa Ngunit pamilya ang naging sandalan nila upang magpatuloy at sugpuin ang pandemya.

Buhay nila’y di madali Sumusuong sila sa butas ng karayom upang mundo’y muling makabawi Katawan at kalusugan nila’y pilit ring pinapalakas Dahil ito lang ang kanilang puhunan upang makalikha ng totong lunas.

Itong pandemya ang nagbigay sa kanila ng kakaibang lakas at panghuhugutan Itong pandemya ang naging daan upang sila ay mas maging mahusay sa kanilang larangan Itong pandemya ay isang hamon na nagpabago sa buhay na kanilang kinagisnan Itong pandemya ay naging buhay nila kung saan kaayusan at pag-asa ang pinanghahawakan.

LAOM | 8

What’s inside a Front-liner’s Mind?

A free-versed limerick by Neme Samson

‘Breathe for me child, breathe Don’t give up, fight it, fight’ Countless times I’ve said those phrases Guess words do hold better might It’s hard being a doctor, let alone a nurse Long days and sleepless nights Its’ been a year now, being under this curse People take this enemy for granted ‘Imma go to the mall and buy that purse’ Are our lives really that disposable?

A bit of respect by staying at home Is it that too hard to do, mind you?

If it’s not important, well, stick inside Your homes my dear, we have a law to abide This torment won’t last, if we’ll listen always We medics, classified endangered, anyways Anyone can help, by being mindful of their actions

9 | LAOM

It’s exhausting, being a doctor, let alone being soldiers Also, parents, and laborers, and those who work They’re the unyielding ones, our brave warriors For money is scarce, much rarer is food yah dork They risk everything, their lives, for us, denizens Of this country, yes, our country that we live in All we need to do is abide the law, such good citizens And this enemy of a virus will go poof, poppin’ Like a balloon, it will disappear, For then we’ll have nothing left to fear Yes, those soldiers, doctors, nurses mentioned and so They’re frontlines, if you didn’t catch the memo They protect, they mitigate, they find ways To stop this wretched endless boring days They yearn for hugs, for kisses, for a bed, for home Things we once took for granted, now long gone So stay at home, help them out Sooner or later, we’ll be outside, runnin’ about

LAOM | 10

Emergence Is On Its Knees Sharry M. Cuizon

Emergency! Emergency! running across a room with white walls and marble floors the sundry scream of distress and the look of tired souls masked and gowned for their life protection fighting for the humanity’s right with conviction Emergency! Emergency! steep transposition of event puts the people on edge the clamor of tomorrow did not falter to dredge the pinnacle of today seemed not to stress people died because of their incompetence Emergency! Emergency! as the number continues to grow at peak humanitarian workers befall weak dejected for the lack of hope finding ways how to cope

11 | LAOM

Emergency! Emergency! in times of peril, they ought to unite for a tenet overvaluing the efforts to rob the credit it’s their blood, sweat and tears in line how can we expect them to be fine?

Emergency! Emergency! for every saved lives, they’re in venture uncertain of the future as fret creeps under the seeth of their skin constant doubts and the question of “when” Help! Help! how far can our comrades go? no can tell, we never know Help! Help! open your eyes, offer your hand they need our help to alleviate sufferings in our motherland

PHOTO | JESRYNIEL PLAZA

LAOM | 12

PHOTO | MARY NICOLE JAN MENDOZA

13 | LAOM

Padayon Mike Ferol

Sa kada adlaw nimong pagmata, Dili gyud mawala ang klase-klaseng problema, Bation ka’g kakapoy, bation ka’g kaluya, Mawad-an ka’g paglaom nga mura ba’g di na nimo kaya.

Kapila na natumba, kapila na nawad-ag gana, Nahutdan na’g kusog, di na halos makabarog, Apan sa paglabay sa mga panahon, Kinahanglan ra gihapon nimong mubangon, Kay anaa gihapon nimo ang solusyon, Naa ra nimo’g ganahan pa ba ka magpadayon.

Isip usa ka estudyante nga naningkamot sa pag-eskwela, Dako kaayong pangandoy ang gusto nimong maamuma, Dili ka pwedeng kapoyon, di ka pwedeng magpaluyaluya, Tungod kay mahadlok kang mahiubos nimo ang imong pamilya.

Busa dasiga ang imong kaugalingon nga magpadayon!

Bisan hinay-hinay lamang, ikaw gihapon magmalampuson, Lig-una ang pagsalig sa Ginoo ug hilabi na sa kaugalingon, Kay kining tanan para man sab sa imong maayong kaugmaon.

LARAWAN | WELJUN GALLARDO

LAOM | 14

15 | LAOM

ILLUSTRATION | RAFAELLA UTRERA

LAOM | 16

QUARANTINE: MGA KWENTONG NEGATIVE

BOYET JUAN SICAT

Hawak niya ang kamay ko habang pinipilit na makapagsalita.

Dalawang gabi na s’yang nakaratay sa kama at ramdam ko na ang pagsuko sa panginginig n’ya. Maya’t-maya ang kanyang pagdilat; maya’t-maya rin ang pagpikit.

“Anak, o-okey lang... Hayaan mo na ako. P...puntahan mo... ang tita Ester mo,” garalgal na bulong ni Mama. Kahit sa boses, batid ko ang pa-ubos n’ya nang hininga. May kirot sa puso ko sa tuwing nakikita kong pilit n’yang nilalabanan ang pananakit ng katawan at lalamunan.

“Pero ma,” pagpumilit ko. “Dadalhin kita sa ospital. Ti-tyempo ako, tayo. Pangako ‘yan. Konting tiis lang.”

Tinapik n’ya nang malumanay ang pisngi ko bilang pag kontra.

“Mabuti kang anak, Boyet,” usal niya. “W-wag mo-o... mo hahayaang magaya ka...sa i-iba.” At muli siyang pumikit.

Sa pagkakataong ‘yon muli akong binalot ng pagsisisi at galit sa sarili. Sa loob ng labing-walong taon, naging matibay s’yang ina. Ngayon, nabubuhay na lang s’ya sa hiram na oras— hinahabol ang hininga. At kasalanan ko... Kasalanan ko lahat. Kung ‘di lang sana ako lumabas... ~ Napalingon ako sa gawing bintana nang may narinig akong humaharurot na motorsiklo sa labas ng bahay. Kalaunan ay sumapaw ang ingay at ilaw ng wang-wang. Habulan ata. May pulis.

17 | LAOM

Naghihihiyaw naman sa kalasingan si Papa kasama ang barkada n’yang si Nestor sa ‘di kalayuan. Natuwa siguro na may nakita silang iba bukod sa isa’t-isa, alak, at lumang gulong na may nakapintang ‘vulcanizing shop’. Simula nang nagpatupad ang munisipyo ng community quarantine dahil sa Corona na ‘yan ay dumalang na ang nagpapaayos sa kanya ng gulong. Kung susumahin, wala na talaga.

Pero araw-araw pa ring naka-pwesto si Papa sa labas. ‘Di ko lang alam kung dahil ‘to sa imbitasyon ng alak o dahil gusto n’ya lang takasan ang sitwasyon sa loob ng bahay. ~ Quarter to seven ang oras sa wall clock. Uwian na nila Papa.

Nakapikit pa rin si Mama. Tatlong oras na mula nang huli s’yang dumilat.’Di na rin s’ya gumagalaw. ‘Yun na pala ang huling beses na maririnig ko s’yang magsalita. Ewan ko ba pero sa mga oras na ‘yon, ‘di na ako umiyak. Siguro naubos na ang luha ko no’ng nakaraang gabi. Siguro tanggap ko na na dun talaga hahantong lahat mula nang sumuway ako sa utos. O siguro mas higit ang galit na nasa loob ko kesa sa pighati. Galit na higit pa sa sarili.

Nagtago ako sa ilalim ng kama na kinahihigaan ni Mama at sumuksok sa pinaka-gilid. Dalawang araw at dalawang gabi ko rin ‘to naging panandaliang tahanan. Walang paninibago sa pagtago. ~ May tumahol na aso, pero saglit lang. May mga yabag ng paa.

Tumunog ang kadena. Dinig ko ang pag-ikot ng susi sa malaking kandado. Bumulwak ang malamig na hangin mula sa labas papasok ng bahay. Isinara ni Papa ang pinto. Inilapag n’ya ang cellphone ko sa mesa na katabi ng lababo. Paika-ika s’yang naglakad papasok sa kwarto. Lasing na lasing. Tinabihan n’ya si Mama at niyakap na parang may buhay ito. Humuni pa s’ya ng isang lumang kanta bago tuluyang humilik.

Nang masigurong tulog na si Papa, dahan-dahan akong lumabas mula sa pinagkakataguan. Pagkatayo ay sinulyapan ko si Mama sa huling pagkakataon. ‘Di ko naman maatim na tumingin kay Papa.

Lumabas ako ng bahay, dahan-dahan, tangan-tangan ang cellphone.

Binasag n’ya pala. ‘Di na gumagana. Nakalimutan kong tignan ang oras bago lumabas, pero bahala na. Curfew na ata. Sana may pulis. ‘Pag nahuli nila ako, handa naman na ako sa mga mangyayari. Kakastiguhin

LAOM | 18

nila ako. Tatanungin. Magmamatigas akong umuwi ng bahay. Sasagot ako. Pero syempre, ‘di ako aasa na may makakaintindi. ‘Di ako aasa na maniniwala sila ‘pag sinabi kong dalawang araw at gabi akong tumira sa ilalim ng kama ni Mama— takot ‘di lang para sa kanya kundi para rin sa sarili.

Siguro duwag ako nang tumakas ako sa bahay dalawang gabi na ang nakararaan, habang sinasaktan ni Papa si Mama. Tanda ko hanggang ngayon ang lutong ng mga suntok at sakal ni Papa sa kanya. Sa isip ko no’n, tumatakbo ako para humingi ng tulong. Pero sinong niloko ko? Nang gabing ‘yon, walang tao sa kalsada. Walang rumorondang pulis. Walang tanod. Walang mahihingan ng tulong. May kalayuan din ang estasyon ng pulis at ospital. Ang mga nakarinig sa pangyayari, piniling maging bingi. Nakatalikod ang mundo; mahimbing ang pagtulog.

Pasimple akong bumalik ng bahay nang gabing ‘yon. T’yempo naman na ‘di naka-lock ang pinto. Nakahandusay si Papa sa kusina dala ng pagod at kalasingan. Sa kama, duguan at walang malay si Mama.

Nang maramdaman kong nagigising na si Papa, agad akong nagtago sa ilalim ng kama. Masyado nang marupok ang likod n’ya para yumuko pa at mahuli ako dun. Dalawang araw akong nanatili sa ilalim para kay Mama. Kung nahuli ako, t’yak dalawa kaming paglalamayan. Sinong mag-aalaga sa kanya?

Nanatili ako sa ilalim, lalabas lang ‘pag nasa shop si Papa. Pero ‘di ako aasa na maniniwala sila. ‘Di ako aasa na ituturing nilang bayani si Mama sa pagtatanggol n’ya sa akin laban sa ama na galit sa bakla. Mas malala pa raw ako sa virus nang umamin ako sa kanila. Nagpupuyos s’ya sa galit— nandun si Mama para saluhin ‘yon. Ngayon wala na s’ya.

Kailangan ba talagang may kabayaran ang paglabas? Ang pag-amin?

‘Di ako aasa na maniniwala sila. Ikulong nila ako, wala na ‘kong pakialam. Katumbas na rin ‘yon ng kalayaan.

“Nasa labas na ako, Ma.” Binagtas ko ang kalsada. Mahaba ang gabi. Sa ‘di kalayuan, ang tunog ng wang-wang.

19 | LAOM

PHOTO | KERBY P. FELICIO

LAOM | 20

QUARANTINE: MGA KWENTONG NEGATIVE

BULAG JEREMIAH NAPONE

Magbu-bukang-liwayway pa lamang ay tulak-tulak na ni Kano ang kariton’g puno ng kalakal at iilang sisidlan ng pagkain at tubig na layon niyang lagyan bago pa man sumikat ng husto ang araw.

Sa kariton ay hindi lang nakalagay ang mga natirang gamit nila Kano mula sa sunog sa kanilang bahay kundi nakaratay rin dito ang ulyanin niyang lola.

Higit kumulang limang buwan na ang nakakaraan nang mangyari ang sunog at sadyang ilang piraso lang ng sisidlan ng pagkain at tubig at kanyang lola lamang ang naisalba ni Kano sa pangyayari.

Alas kwatro ng madaling-araw, naka-pwesto na si Kano sa gilid ng kalsada, hawak-hawak ang latan’g lalagyan niya ng tubig at sya ring ginagamit nya sa panglilimos. Kumikita si Kano ng humigit-kumulang 150 piso sa isang araw ng panlilimos. Nakaugalian na rin nitong manghingi ng pagkain sa karenderya sa tapat ng estasyon ng bus.

Kalong ni Kano ang latan’g walang laman nang nabigla ito nang makita ang iilang taong nakatakip ang halos kalahati ng mukha. ‘Anong meron?’ tanong ng bata sa sarili nang makita ang eksena.

21 | LAOM

Pansin ni Kano na tila lumiliit ang kita nito habang dumaraan ang mga araw. Patuloy niyang nakikita ang sandamak-mak na mga taong nakatakip ang mukha. Naglakas loob siyang lumapit sa isang mama habang ang kanyang lola ay naiwan sa kariton na bahagyang namumutla.

‘Boss, anong meron?’ Tiningnan lamang siya ng mama at saka umusad nang ilang metro mula sa bata. Walang magawa ang bata kundi umalis pabalik sa kangyang lola.

Tanghali na nang sumakit ang sikmura ni Kano. Tinawag din sya ng kanyang lolan’g namumutla at sinabing, ‘Apo, gutom na’ko’.

Dali-dali namang tinulak ni Kano ang kariton patungo sa karenderyang nakasanayan nyang hingan ng pagkain. Sa araw na ‘yon, sarado ang karenderya. Namalayan rin nya na halos lahat ng tindahan malapit sa pwesto niya ay hindi nagbukas. ‘Baka may mga lakad,” usal nito sa sarili.

Lumakad ng ilang kilometro si Kano mula sa pwesto at iniwan saglit ang matanda na mistulang nilalagnat. Naisipan ni Kano na bilhan ng gamot ang kanyang lolan’g namumutla habang manglilimos nalang ito ng pagkain. Pagdating sa parmasya ay nadatnan ng bata ang mahabang pila ng mga taong nakatakip ang mukha. Pumuwesto siya sa may hulihan at nag-antay.

Dapit-hapon na ng makuha ni Kano ang gamot at nabigyan rin siya ng iilang pagkain mula sa mga dumaraang pulis. Nagsimula syang maglakad mula sa kanyang pinanggalingan pa-uwi sa ulyanin nitong lola. Gabi na nang madatnan ni Kano ang lolan’g tulog sa maliit nitong kariton. ‘La, kain na. Binilhan ko din po kayo ng gamot’. Takang-taka ang bata kung bakit hindi sumasagot ang lola sa kanya. Pilit nitong ginising ang matanda hanggang sa ang mga luha ni Kano ay naguunahan na sa pagtulo. ‘La, gising na, lagnat lang yan,’ ang huling sinabi ni Kano sa kanyang lolan’g wala nang buhay.

LAOM | 22

QUARANTINE: MGA KWENTONG NEGATIVE

OK, BOOMER AKIN G. PONCE

I was fresh from my 9 to 5 internship on the pharmacy I’m working in; which happens to be owned by my dad, and to some extent my mom as well. My mom; or nanay as I call her, works as a Doctor (OB-GYN) and she just cleared her clinic schedule for the day and went to visit me on the last few minutes of my shift while waiting for my dad to pick us up. My dad ( I call him tatay) arrived soon after, and then soon enough, we drove off.

Both of my parents work long, tedious hours because of the nature of my mom’s job and my father, who works as an executive on the pharmacy gets dragged in as a part-time chauffeur of my mom because of her ineptitude behind the wheel. My parents, as you have figured out by now; are both frontliners against the COVID-19 pandemic.

While driving towards the hospital; my mother has the habit of scrolling down the phone while reading everything she sees out loud online and she shifts to a tone of anguish every time the pandemic is brought up. By the nature of her work, she is almost always out of touch with popular culture, along with my dad. As she was scrolling down further; she asked me a mundane, usually uneventful question: “Nak, unsay pasabot anang DIY?” “Do-it-yourself, ngano?” I answered.

23 | LAOM

It didn’t take long for me to realize the dismal implications of the question. Here’s why.

We love to say the phrase “ok, boomer” in disagreement to those who are old and out of touch; even towards Gen X-ers a generation below themselves. But what about these “boomers”?

What about the middle-class-or-lower class boomers who work long days and nights for their families? What about these boomers who risk getting called idiots by the standards of popular culture just because of the endless stream of sick people who need their help? What about these boomers who don’t have televisions on their humble homes, haphazardly throwing themselves at risk because they don’t know that there’s a pandemic? What about them?

I’m fortunate enough to enjoy some of the luxuries in life because of my parent’s hard work. I’m lucky enough because I have no qualms with teaching them the ropes of the ebbs and flows of a changing world in the eyes of the current generation. I’m lucky enough because I have the patience to teach older people with opinions that we too have opinions of our own.

As we see it now, this often dismissive attitude and the pandemic’s penchant for older people is doubling down on their existential dread. And I personally hope we can see that.

Right now; as this pandemic worsens, I can only hope for the best that they could come home safe and alive. I could see that for these “boomers” and their families too.

Okay, boomer? Not quite.

LAOM | 24

To Find the Light…

Krist Montilla I lived for the 5 AM sunrise, Lived for the air that felt nice.

Dreamed of the world to be bright Yet we cannot have it always right.

It seems like yesterday I was filled with happiness.

Seen through the window glass, my invisible audience.

As I danced around the living room with delight, Sun rays seeped through the cracks, my spotlight.

But it happened, my already heavy heart, empty soul, The feeling of wanting to be in the dark all alone.

As the darkness getting a bit comforting for my liking, Slowly consuming me, will I be able to escape from it?

And why is this feeling happening so sudden?

I just want my life, but I also do not...

But still, I do not... I thought, This is getting to me too much; I want it to end.

25 | LAOM

“Leaves fall from the trees, and it regrows back in time, So as the flowers, fruits, and it will be fine.

The moon with its phases, clouds that become gray, comes the rain everything does feel too much, too sad, but it is never vain.”

Sudden mixed feelings happen in a while, but it has an end, The source of happiness, also ends, but it comes back again.

To embrace the gray, cold, heavy feeling, Is to find a light in the dark and remember a thing worth living.

This idea, I learned it the hard way, Finding hope amidst the challenging state.

“It is okay to not be okay.” I stare at my reflection, A reminder to myself, a beautiful manifestation.

LAOM | 26

En Passant

Maria Gabrielle Dolotallas

The table was set, accompanied by the cedar clock ticking Pieces were drawn, out of the dark abyss where they seemed sleeping, Two personas stood still and shook hands as their eyes met blazing, Both yearned for the same feeling, a desire that can only be fulfilled by winning.

One wore a pretty white dress, with her short hair flipped out as she sat down on the chair, The other one wore hand-me-down clothes, soaked by her dripping hair yet completely unaware Spectators called the pretty one ¨queen¨, with a gleam of confidence and a mind as keen, While the challenger was termed a mere pawn, a lump of boredom that stifles a yawn.

The duel begins, a petty entertainment for those who do not care what’s at stake, A match for betting- a wager, offered to the knights where death they will surely uptake, However- it was different for the two competitors who shared an undisclosed commonality, It was a risk of their lives where their existence can be proven a reality.

27 | LAOM

The queen made no hesitation- dragging all those under her in one swift motion, She grasped and killed even her allies who were near to her king, a sign for what she calls loyalty and devotion, The pawn, on the other hand- made little yet cautious decisions, As she slowly went to the queen´s territory unnoticed, a sign for what she calls quality precision.

A bloody war that ended, went on for hours- yet felt like a couple of ages, The victory was declared, surprised but not disappointed- an untold story rewritten in pages, A mere pawn who was silently loud- barged boldly and miraculously became queen, Shaking both sides of the towers within the castle that the king was staying in.

As the pretty girl who was no longer queen yearned for pure fame obtained only by winning, The younger sister wanted also the same- yet, fame for a new chapter and beginning, As she finally had the courage to be acknowledged by the people whom she holds dear, With the quality of mind and spirit that enables her to withstand her everlasting fear.

ILLUSTRATION | VERNON JIO VIAJAR

LAOM | 28

ONE LAST RHYME Armida C. Merciales

One last time for this last rhyme before it leads it out to the sea before we set ourselves free Uncover your scarred face from the masks that you use Reveal your scarred wrists, even your bruise Unfold your heart like an origami crane Now, let it take flight, let all not be in vain Do not be drowned in your river of thoughts As for the battles, you have fought some, you may have lost but still, you survived Remind yourself, for you never died The wounds became scars, you just have to look The heart still beats despite the beats it took Heal yourself for no one could Love yourself even if no one would

29 | LAOM

For you are an oasis with the last drops of water and in the desert, that’s how much you matter Count your blessings, even the ones that hurt even the ones that put you at the worst Let me finish the words that still flows the time has come, so here it goes Heal yourself for no one could Love yourself even if no one would So, this is my last rhyme for you, just one last time one, two, three...

Now, we set ourselves free.

LAOM | 30

PHOTO | ELIAZAR MARK E. PAZ

31 | LAOM

Non-fictional Heroes Ann Marie Forcadas

As the corona virus wrecked our time Real-life heroes appeared in the line Sailing their boat in a wavy water ground With rip-roaring anger of the enemy that goes around Day by day is a dangerous play Like slaying their swords to an unseen enemy Risking their mortal lives Putting their health in a safety deprived The unfathomable sacrifice they paint daily Leaving the alarmed feeling to their family For they walk in the bizarre line Paving a thought that they might come home not fine With bended knees I honour them For their duty is like feeding the grim Wandering in the dreadful quest Just to give the world another smile and a joyful Yes!

LAOM | 32

JULY’S SUMMER Armida C. Merciales

Drip, drip, drop Just this time, make it stop Drip, drip, drop memories, slightly coming back

music flow.

Each drop, wildness of the rhythm’s move, Close my eyes, yet there is still sorrow

Cold, wet breeze tickles my nose I remembered it well last summer on July Like how fearlessly the wind blows a brave little sparrow that takes flight

This moment alone, a vision, a memory, Perhaps it will be dried with the morning sun.

But for now, my soul is alive my heart holds true, A slight tear in memory of you.

The clouds are crying but not of pain They are crying to make themselves free Tears will create a jeweled morning A little sparrow told me so

I remembered it well last summer on July How the rain dripped, dripped, dropped The memory of you just wouldn’t stop And how my heart ripped, ripped, dropped.

Come the ripples, touch my soul, Listen my heart feels the

33 | LAOM

NOVEMBER’S HOPE Armida C. Merciales

The rain sounds like a death march for those who are battling despair. heavy hearts danced the pain away yet tears are to be found nowhere.

Cursed with your own thoughts With fear of what lies ahead “Is it alright to stop for what I’ve fought? and lie with the stars instead?”

Longing filled the empty corners Neither of us are “whole”.

But, the dandelions still blossomed Perhaps, as well as our souls.

ILLUSTRATION | VERNON JIO VIAJAR

Hush... heart, mind, soul Whose arguments never intersect One body yet never been whole A life that wishes to resurrect, to resurrect the joy it once knew.

Such as the dandelion, by the wind, it blew To far places, who knows where.

Yet, still grows, and finds freedom somewhere.

The rain sounds like a music box for those who are battling themselves heavy hearts marched the night away In search of hope to be found, someday.

LAOM | 34

Commonplace Liven Dye

Dear lone one, Who’s drowned in thoughts Uncertain of age, overwhelmed by events Like a butterfly, time flies Hard to grasp once lost Like moments at our door, Chances come untold Better to live life the way it is Designed to be felt and marked By pain or joy, happiness or agony This too shall pass Better make it worthwhile, Better make it last Now I tell you Dance like nobody’s watching Sing like you can break a glass Draw like Picasso, paint like Van Gogh Don’t fret to try new things And discover far from what you’ve known

35 | LAOM

Don’t refrain yourself for the fear of mediocrity; Not skilled at anything, Just something in between Truth is we’re all average We’re not born genius But we’re bound to be great We’re not silver spooned But we’re bound for a silver lining Time strikes and vanishes fast Stop keeping yourself from being human Humans are imperfect, we fail For life is designed to be felt and marked Experience life ‘cause this too shall pass Here I end my letter, Hope it gave you solace From someone who’s mediocre herself

LAOM | 36

37 | LAOM

ILLUSTRATION | BELLE BLANCHE KYLE ABIOL

Musings 夜子☆ (Yoruko)

Laom.

Perhaps it’s juvenile idealism—wishful thinking of sunshine after a thunderstorm, or the flimsy promise of distant stars against the black canvass of the night sky.

Perhaps it’s the presence of a candlelight in a dark room, which may be fickle yet provides enough light all the same.

Laom.

Loosely translated, it is hope; anticipation for something, often positive. It’s a curious feeling, one that exists and continually persists, regardless of how pessimists say otherwise. It has fueled societal resilience throughout time, the expectation of something worthwhile after overcoming obstacles, foolishly high like an opium overdose—as Marx had once said.

Laom.

It’s a beautiful, tragic, yet altogether a noble emotion. For the departed have only ever braved death with the hope of certain peace that comes after. Perhaps it’s the truth—no, that is the truth.

LAOM | 38

39 | LAOM

ILLUSTRATION | DAVID HERRERA

Silent Passages Pam Ranido

On the alee of strange people, Where esses on the sand washed like pebbles Some were waved to distant lands Whilst others must swim away to build new islands But most, they sail in the trying course of unknown Forsook by the water’s keep As their voyages carved with blunder and wear They bear them long, stiffens to become stones On the alee of strange people beneath, The cloud sheaves to launch its acquiescence Hereof to fall the seedlings of rain – nonetheless To set forth the dying stones in no defeat Silent passages we go to pay Where warm stone stays when the others washed away From this coarse journey of separate desolation Here comes an end to a thousand mile revelation.

LAOM | 40

41 | LAOM