The Warriors' Canvas: Literary Folio by Warrior's Ink

Copyright © 2022 Warrior's Ink All rights reserved. This literary folio may not be reproduced in any manner thereof without written approval and consent from the Warrior's Ink. The entirety of this work is credited to the respective authors of each literary piece from students of the University of San Carlos and the Warrior's Ink Editorial Board. Printed by Warrior's Ink Editorial Board 2021-2023 First Printing, July 2022 Warrior's Ink USC Talamban Campus Gov. M. Cuenco Avenue Barangay Talamban Cebu City 6000

THE WARRIORS' CANVAS LITERARY FOLIO

VOLUME I JULY 2022

III

ABOUT THE COVER “It’s haunting to stare at a blank canvas not knowing where to start or not knowing what to do first but knowing fully well that your voice won’t be heard if you just keep staring at its empty beauty. Move your artistic hands once more, grab the wooden paintbrush in front of you, and watch as the colors evoke everything you’ve been bottling up Watch as a once-blank canvas is stained by the colors of your emotions, painted by the hues of your truth, and transformed into a complex, beautiful masterpiece.”

CYRIL ANDRE DURANGO LITERARY EDITOR

INTRODUCTION We stare in awe at the masterpieces painted by the greatest artists of history. From the Mona Lisa to the Starry Night, these paintings vividly evoke the artists’ feelings through using paintbrushes and shades of paint, while being limited to the size of the canvas. Today, Warrior’s Ink, and the students they serve, take inspiration from their current lives. And like the artists of history, we write our own truth and inspire others to have their voices, their feelings, and their truth, be heard. An artist creates masterpieces on blank canvasses. A writer, and a warrior of the truth, creates voices on paper.

- WARRIOR'S INK EDITORIAL BOARD

TABLE OF

CONTENTS RED GEM AMONG THE ROUGH

LOVE IN THE DARK

THIS STRANGER

CUPID'S MELANCHOLY

by JEYCY

by CRESTFALLEN INK

by BLUE BIRD

by KARYLLE JED DUMANGLAS

by O.W.L.

ORANGE COLORS

DILI IKAUWAW

by LUIS P. A.

by ANTHONIETTE MERCADO

YELLOW HOPE FOR TOMORROW

ISANG TAON AT MAHIGIT

NATUTULOG SA HAPON

by BLAR

by YAM

by OONA COLIE ARELLANO

GREEN SAFE SPACES

KAHIBAW KO

THE DECLARATION

by SALITANG WAKIN

by ANTHONIETTE MERCADO

by CYRIL ANDRE DURANGO

BLUE AKO SI TONYO

CORNERS OF MY ROOM

SA ISANG MADILIM NA PANGYAYARI

by NNKNWRT

by VAN

by MAXINE ALESSANDRA PABRACUER

VIOLET ABILITY

CHOOSING BATTLES

by LUIS P.A.

by ERYKA BERTULFO

VII

GEM

AMONG THE

ROUGH BY JEYCY

There’s this girl, her inherent beauty she denies, She says her smile doesn’t fit her well. I tell her otherwise, That when she smiles like such a mademoiselle. Unattractive and small, she says about her eyes She’s wrong, they look like there’s a galaxy in them, Like a beautiful, elegant, and expensive gem And those aren’t lies. She’s sad that her body isn’t super curvy, That she’s too slim and needs growth. To me, she may not have an hourglass body Yet even in the darkest of times, she glows. She’s sad that she isn’t like the others I tell her she’s unique, not a defect, That she brings sunshine when there’s bad weather, Those imperfections of hers, they make her perfect.

LOVE IN THE

DARK BY CRESTFALLEN INK

A cacophonous sound of thunderclaps, Tagged along with the raucous and mishaps, My tempestuous mind is forced to embrace, Yet, I get clued up in portraying a smiling face. Imprisoned in a bottomless pit of sorrow; Ventures to escape are fuel to the heavy woe. Harrowing entities are there to escort me, Bequeathing extreme misery and dispelling glee. My crestfallen soul's soundless plea To be free from agony disguised as gaiety Is extinguished by their obliviousness, Annihilated by my fear of being named 'depressed.' Another reverberating thunderbolt struck Followed by unrelenting yet petrifying knocks By a man in a black cloak with a hood, carrying a scythe; He entered, and a fresh wave of darkness filled my sight. A wicked sharp scythe against a papery thread Of a woman who is alive but dead. Trimming the thread of hope is losing the battle. How do I win when I only have thin wool in the tussle? Then, he came like a smoking glow of hope, Illuminating the esplanade to help me cope. The reaper vanished when he saw the spark Created by my love in the dark

THIS

STRANGER BY BLUE BIRD

As I came across this stranger… His aura captivated my eyes His blazing fire rose to the skies At that moment, the clock stopped ticking Then, I found my withered heart beating. As I met this stranger… I did not know a stranger’s hand was warm His gentleness was a prince-like-charm One look, and I saw goodness in him That quite wavered my steady rhythm

As I looked through this stranger… Pretense overcast his bright eyes A bleeding heart inside underlies Concealing pain through a smile to look strong To only bear agony for so long. As I got to know this stranger… I disclosed all my hidden torment Feeling relieved in a fleeting moment Secrets are exposed for very brief His pain was my solace to my grief As I got attracted to this stranger… I suddenly took a step backward One mistake could put me in hazard It’s a thing I’ll never have back As my idea of love is colored black As I was saddened by this stranger… He’s like a bird with a broken wing I’d like to heal him and watch him flying, And console him to stop pretending And that it’s hard, but surviving is winning As I remembered this stranger… He became a segment of my past, A transient and fading memory May happiness be with us at last As I left this stranger… He was no longer a stranger to me

BY KARYLLE JED DUMANGLAS

For I was a flower And you were the bee The being who loved you So constant and true For I was a warrior And you were the mate Shrived thee to free Sought you in battle Gave you the victory For I was the luna And you were the sol You gave me the light, The flame, your all For, again, I was the moon You were the sun Endowed you the celestial heavens The paradise with which no one knew Yet you left me And chose the other side For the luna wasn’t enough You wanted more You were the sun, the sol The king of the day And I was queen of the night Who was once your flower The warrior who embraced And fought for you Whom is constant and true Who endowed you the victory Lingering for you to come back You may be miles away— For I was your moon and You were my sun Once inseparable Now distanced, set apart Never to be close again. 10

CUPID'S

MELANCHOLY BY O.W.L.

“I’m retiring”, said. Cupid as he let out a sigh full of stress and exhaustion. “I’m quitting this job after I reach this month’s quota!” exclaimed Cupid, directed to no one in particular. Cupid had had it rough these days, well worse than what he usually has to deal with. Cupid never liked his job, he didn’t like it but it was what he was given and it is the only thing he can do, he isn’t the best at it but it is what he can do. Cupid’s job has everything to do with love. Falling in love, falling out of love, love that knows no distance, forbidden love, a love that transcends time, you name it. It is his task to woo people into loving something and he has been doing this job for a very long time. How long exactly? Well, some say for a thousand years. Others say a million, and others say that he has been working as old as the universe itself! In truth, no one really remembers. Not even Cupid himself. After all, you start forgetting things when a hundred years or two pass by. Scholars would agree that Cupid is at least five thousand years old and not a million or a billion. Cupid hasn’t disclosed whether that finding and information is true or not. To this day, it is an acceptable theory. This time, however, Cupid was thinking about retiring from his job. He had been working in that job for so long that he wished for a change of pace. But first, he must reach this month’s quota. All he needed to do is woo two coworkers to love each other. He prepared his bow and arrow and aimed at the two coworkers. He released the arrows and shot at the coworkers. Instantly, what once were coworkers were now lovers. The job is done. He is finished for the day.

Cupid returns to his home and had dinner. He showered, watched his favorite show, and eventually decided to fall asleep. He laid down in his bed. All the exhaustion from his job slowly takes over him. His eyes started getting heavy and, slowly, he succumbed to sleep. Or he would have if not for his ringing phone. Feeling more irritated and even more annoyed, Cupid groggily gets up and picks up his phone to answer. The one who called him was the secretary of the department he is working in. He has been summoned to the office and is expected to come. Feeling even angrier and even more pissed off, Cupid dressed up and made his way to the office he is working on. Cupid arrived and the secretary told him that his monthly quota is one couple short. The secretary explained that this month there were supposed to be thirty-five new couples, thirteen break-ups, and three forbidden love situations. Cupid only managed to get thirtyfour couples. At the height of his anger, Cupid reluctantly, and violently, worked to finish his quota. He desperately searches for two people he can woo to each other. Due to his rage, he misses the would-be couple on his search. Eventually, he reached the countryside, he was flying after all, and since he was on a blind rage-induced search, he was lost. He walked for a bit and eventually encounters a house with a small farm on top of a hill. Cupid knocks on the door and an old man opens the door. “Yes, can I help you?” asked the old man to Cupid. 12

“Good evening, sir! I am really sorry for bothering you this late in the evening but I was wondering if you can help me with directions?” I have no idea where I am. I guess if you can point me to the nearest bus stop, I would really appreciate it,” said Cupid. “Well, I can point you the directions but you know what I will take you there!” the old man exclaimed. “Well, if you insist then, please I would be delighted.” And so, Cupid and the old man walked together to the bus stop. The moon was out that night so the roads were well-illuminated. As they were walking, the old man began to make small conversations with Cupid. “So, what is your name young man?” asked the old man. “It’s Cupid, sir,” said Cupid. “Cupid, eh? Like those little flying angels with heart bows and arrows?” “Yes sir, exactly like the little angel.” Cupid doesn’t like the fact that people see him as a cute flying little angel with a bow and arrow. That picture was taken hundreds of years ago! Obviously, I have grown up since then! is the official disclosure of Cupid regarding the subject of Cupid’s interpretation in media. “So anyway son, what are you doing around these parts?” asked the old man to Cupid. Cupid answered, “Well, I was actually in the middle of my work and then I got lost and ended in this place”. “What is your job then?” “Well, it is a very tiresome fieldwork.” “Do you like your work “I am not so sure about that,” Cupid replied, “Sometimes it is interesting. Most of the time, it is just tiring”. The old man then exclaimed, “Well every job in the world is tiring to do whether you like your job or not” “That I can agree.” 13

After walking for several minutes, Cupid and the old man reached a playground. The old man then slowly walked over to one of the swings and sat down. The old man said to Cupid “I’m sorry son, I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m sorry if this troubles you”. “No, it is no problem at all, it’s not like I am in a hurry or so,” Cupid took the other seat of the swing. Cupid then noticed that the old man smiled like a little child and his eyes are shining with delight. The old man exclaimed, “This swing sure does bring back memories”. “If I may inquire,” Cupid asked, “memories of what?” The old men then said, “Memories of my late wife.” “I’m sorry I didn’t mean–” “It’s fine, it’s fine. She passed away 6 years ago and I have gotten over it”. Cupid still felt like apologizing. Instead, Cupid asked the old man to tell him the story of his wife and him. “If you want to know then so be it,” the old man said. “I first met my wife in the city, to be exact, in a theatre show.Back then, I was nothing but a simple office worker working a nine-to-five job. I too didn’t really enjoy my job but the pay was good so I stayed. Well, one day, a theatrical show was playing near the place I was working on. I wanted to treat myself that day, so I decided to buy a ticket to that show. When the show started, I started to think to myself ‘This is boring, I should leave’. It was then that she appeared on the stage. She was playing the role of a supporting character, but she was magnificent. She performed very well that I decided to stay and watch the entire play. I didn’t pay much attention to the play.

My eyes were only stuck to her. After the play, I was still so mesmerized by her. But then, deep in my heart, I know that I probably won’t meet her or be even given the chance to at least talk to her. “As if God had heard my sorrow, the chance came when I met her on a bus two months after the play. We made small talks and every day I would meet her at the same bus stop. Eventually, I gained the courage to ask her on a friendly date and surprisingly she said yes. We went on dates and eventually became much closer than ever before. The time came and I asked her out and surprisingly, she also said yes. We became lovers and formed a bond that was strong and unbreakable. I continued my work as an office worker while she continued to work as an actress. One day we decided to take a little vacation in the countryside and in this place, this park was where I proposed to her. And well surprisingly again, she said yes. We got married and lived a happy life trusting each other. I loved her and she loved me. There were a few squabbles here and there but those were resolved. Eventually, we decided to quit our jobs and move to the countryside. As to why we moved, who knows we were young back then and full of life.

Cupid then said to the old man, “Sir, that was perhaps one of the most beautiful stories that I have ever heard.” “Oh well, it’s nothing”. The two got up and walked while conversing about the old man’s life. They eventually reached the bus stop. Cupid got up the bus and bid farewell to the old man. As the bus drove off, taking Cupid back to the city, a huge smile presented itself on his face. Cupid took comfort and felt joy knowing that his hard work made people happy. “Maybe, I shouldn’t quit after all.”

“She lived her life smiling, we weren’t blessed with a child but that was fine. So long as we have each other we were fine. Eventually, she came down with a sickness, and the said sickness took her away from this world. I was devastated and depressed at losing the love of my life but I took resolve in myself. I know that she won’t forgive me if I keep wallowing in despair, so I moved on with my life. Though she might be gone, my memories with her and the time we spent together keep me going forward 14

COLORS BY LUIS P.A.

Threatened was the time, the moment eyes were laid on her. In a silent world, she chimes, seemingly well in the eyes of the former. Behind her face, wishes ponder, smiling colors in a black and white crowd. Told by three women her thread runs simpler, but the hues etched in her veins were loud. Fueled by brutality and chains, her smile broke in a battle cry of rage. Her colors burst into wings, written by pain, leaving teardrops that grew change. Threatened was the tide, colors ripped monochromaticity. The silenced whom battle for pride, they painted colors against reality.

DILI IKAUWAW BY ANTHONIETTE MERCADO

Ikaw ang magpakatawa kanako, bisag gasakit pa. Karun unta ang huna-huna nimo, mahapsay na

Kay naa koy isulti nimo. Paminaw ha?

Di nako ikauwaw na ikaw ang akong pilion.

Dili nako ikauwaw na ikaw ang akong pilion...

Naa pa ba kay pangutan-on?

Kay kung wala, unta makasabot ka na ikaw ra ang akoa. Maong ayaw ikumpara imong kaugalingon sa laing uban pa.

HOPE FOR TOMORROW BY BLAR

I kept screaming and shaking inside. But the water was too far, too high No one could hear or feel my side No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t reach the outside. Without guidance, I kept moving forward I’ve crashed many times; everything’s out of order My life was too far from having fun All I wanted was to get out of it and run I’ve lost too many things and left it to crumble But hope was never one of those things Hope was the one that kept me breathing, Striving to live even though I have nothing Although I’m still stuck in this place called void, Trying to face the pain I once tried to avoid, I am still hoping for tomorrow And maybe, one day, I could feel no sorrow

ISANG TAON AT

MAHIGIT BY YAM

Isang taon at mahigit, di ko na maibilang sa daliri Ngunit isang taon at mahigit na yata akong nagpupuyat at nakakulong Nalululong at di na naurat ang walang hiyang pandemyang Isang taon at mahigit tayong ginagawang tanga Tangang-tanga at tungangang-tunganga na ako sa mga pangyayari Pangyayaring ginagambala ang aking pahinga Na parang kampanang dinaralita ang mga nagdaralita. Kaya’t sa inyo, ikukwento ko, ang kuwento at kwenta ng aking pandemya Sya! At balikan natin kung san nagsimula Nagsimula ito nang mundo ay nagambala at ‘di na nadala ng pananampalataya Sinarado na ang lahat; ilong at bunganga, kanto-kanto at kantahan Tinda-tindahan, pintuang daanan ng mga tahanan, pangkabuhayan at pisikal na paaralan

Estudyanteng kagaya ko at kagaya nila ay na-tiempohan ng tadhana Nang ipinakilala sa bagong normal, kami’y nagmistulang presong malaya “Presong malaya”, mapanuya man pakinggan pero ito’ makatotohanan Ni hindi nga namin alam kung alin at ano ang natutunan Hayy… mula sa paninibago, naging normal ito, kahit na ako pa ri’y lito Naging normal ang buhay katapat ang laptop at telepono Naging normal ang tila’y punong skedyul sa kalendaryo Naging normal ang hindi normal na almusal sa tanghali at limang oras ng pagtulog Manumbalik tayo sa katagang “Presong malaya” Preso dahil una, halata namang ang bahay nami’y naging isang hawla Malaya, dahil nakakalabas nga sa hawla ngunit panganib din lang ang bubungad Ang ilaw ng tahanan ay nandidilim na ang liwanag, ang haligi nama’y nalulumpo na sa kasawiang palad Ginigipit na ako ng mga pangyayaring ito, Namamaluktot na ang likod at nanunuyo na ang aking mga mata Naghihingalo na sa oras at ang utak ay pigang-piga na Pigang-piga na din ang bulsa ng aking ina’t ama; inspirasyong magsulat at magbasa kupas na kupas na Araw-araw ay napapatanong ako kung pa’no Paano ko iniraraos ang aking araw-araw? Paano ko ginawang kahapon ang mga araw na akala kong ako’y ubos na Paano ko naisisingit ang limitadong pahinga sa gitna ng kagipitan sa bahay at sa akademya Pagod na ako. Pagod na pagod na ako Ngunit bawal akong mapagod, sapagkat sa pamilya’y mayroon akong ipinangako Na ilalakad ko pa ang isang taon at mahigit sa sistema at pandemyang hindi ko kontrolado Ilalakad ko pa ang aking ubos na pasensya sa paanan ng kolehiyo Pagod na ako. Totoong pagod na pagod na ako. Ngunit bawal akong mapagod, bagkus pwede akong magpahinga Ilalakad ko pa ang isang taon at mahigit sa sistemang pilit ko pa ring isasaayos Madudugtungan pa ang isang taon at mahigit, at sana’y maka-ahon; kahit ilang “mahigit” pa ang maipon

NATUTULOG SA

HAPON

BY OONA COLIE ARELLANO

Matulog ka na, anak.

I couldn't sleep. I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared.

Every tick and every tock of the clock echoed inside the room. It was a never-ending sound that resonated around these confined white walls. It felt like it's been hours as I've been staring at the clock mindlessly, laying on this unfamiliar bed, trying to recollect the events that had happened these few hours. Yet no matter what, I had no idea how I got here. I didn't know what these machines attached to me did. I had no idea who these strangers in white were, or why they kept telling me to eat and to sleep and to do whatever it is that they wanted me to do. I had no idea what everything and anything was.

If mama was here right now, she would have laid beside me. Tell me stories and talk about our dreams for the future. She'd hug me close and sing me to sleep for my siesta. I'd hazily see the curls of her hair fall down to her shoulder, and her eyes glitter with the afternoon sun. Her humming would resonate in my head just before my eyes would shut close. I'm scared, Mama.

"Anak?" I didn't know where my mama was. All I could muster to remember was that I am a child―a poor child all alone―and that, at this very minute in the clock across from me, I had to go to sleep. And I'm scared. It was time for my afternoon nap―my siesta. If I wanted to grow stronger and taller, I had to sleep. If I wanted to achieve my dreams, I had to sleep. It's what my mama always said: I should sleep. When I wake up, mama would be there beside the bed, looking at me with a warm smile, saying: gising ka na, anak. Yet the tick and tock of the clock was loud. My eyes wouldn't shut even when I tried. The way my body sank into the bed was uncomfortable, and the way my bones felt frail and weak made me feel vulnerable to the unknown surroundings.

I was drawing. In this hot weather with loud flying machines zooming over our heads, I was outside hiding just a few feet away from my small house, drawing on a piece of paper with a pencil. Although I was humble, I would call it a piece of art that deserved nationwide recognition. Mama had to see this. "Anak?" she called again, "let's eat lunch already." "Coming, ma!" I grabbed my drawing and rushed inside. It was a comfortable house, small enough to fit a family. It was so small that the kitchen, the dining and the living room were all in one connected space as soon as you opened the door. Once I entered, Mama was already putting down plates on the square table with a small amount of cooked rice. Nothing else on it.

Although there was a shortage of food at the moment, Mama was always prepared. She was always ready. Mama always had food on the table at the end of the day. She was truly admirable.

"It's our future house! Once I'm big enough, I'll buy us a biiiig house on a mountain just like how I drew it."

"My favorite!" I squealed as I sat down on the chair. She sits beside me with a gentle smile etched on her face.

She pouted and hummed as she looked at it more intensely, "Then, what will you be when you grow up?"

"Really?" she chuckles heartily, "it's just rice though, anak."

"I'm going to draw, and sell my work to other people to place it in their homes as decoration!" I tell her excitedly. I was going to be an artist. "And then, I'll have you, I'll have a wife, and give you grandchildren, and be the best papa who will never leave them no matter what. We'll be a big family in a big house."

I shake my head to answer no. "Everything you cook is my favorite, mama," as it was. She scoops some rice with her hand, lightly shaping it into a small ball. She presses it on her palm, carrying the grains to my mouth. Most of the heat of the rice had already steamed out as I chewed on it, but the color of her hand still remained red. She continued to do this without feeding herself. "Did you draw me something?" she noticed the paper I placed on the table. My eyes lit up, quickly grabbing the drawing and showing it to her. I anticipated her response the most. "It's us!" Her eyebrows raised, "This...you drew this?" she asked as if she couldn’t fathom what she’s seeing, "No way! I don't believe it. This is a work of a true artist. This is amazing, anak!" I giggled. She always made me laugh. "It's mine! It's mine!" I defended myself, "It's me and you in our house! Look!"

"That looks too big to be our house."

She stared at me blankly. She looked a bit shocked. She blinked a couple times before a huge smile forms out of her lips and broke out a laugh that made me feel at ease. "You promise, anak?" she asked once she calmed down. "I promise, mama." Knock. Knock. Her eyes opened widely, and her smile disappeared in a quick second. She stood from her chair; a screech coming out. She looked shaken from the knock at the door. I wondered who it was. She neared the door, and touched the knob to open it, but before she did, she looked back at me with another smile. Yet this time, it looked forced. A man in uniform came in.

He came in and touched mama at her waist, and she didn't let him go. There was always a knock at the door at this time, but I would have been already asleep. He was tall and huge, wearing a uniform with different shades of green. His stature was upright and proper. He didn't look anything like me at all. He looked nothing like the people in my bayan. He looked scary, even with his smile, when he saw me. He came near me and patted my head. "Your child?" I didn't know him at all. Mama nodded at his question. She was quiet. "How old are you?" he asked me, looking at me still with his open smile. His skin was pale white. His hair was midnight black. "Seven po," I told him. "Do you like toys?" he continued, "I can buy you some if you want."

His smile widened. He raised his hand, reaching out to touch my face, but my Mama interrupted. "I'll get him to sleep," she told him, “Please, sit on the couch. I'll be out in a moment." His smile disappeared when he looked at her. His face scorned by her sight. He clicked his tongue, "Hurry up." Mama grabbed me by the hand a little roughly, led me to the bedroom, passing by him, and closed the door. Her breathing was ragged. She looked like she was about to cry. With every inhale, she managed to recompose herself. She suddenly looked at me, calm, with another smile. "Mama, who―" "Matulog ka na, anak." I looked at her confused, "But..." "You want to be an artist, right?" she asked firmly, leading me to the bed on the floor, "if you siesta, you'll be able to achieve your dreams much faster."

"No, thank you," I declined politely. "Hm, then..." he thought. He lowered his head to my height to look at me closer. He inspected my face, with his black pupils moving to look at my every corner, "Do you want to play with me?" I only stared at him and said nothing.

She fixed the banig. "Do I have to?" I complained while she tucked me in with blankets. She hummed a yes. "When I was a kid, my father would tuck me in every after we ate lunch just like this,” she recalled, “he would say: kung matulog ka na, maging mas matapang at mas malaki ka pa kesa sakin."

But my mind did... I'm scared.

I grinned in response. Her tone was forceful and strong.

I could hear the desperation in her voice that she wanted me to sleep, as if she was hiding something. Yet, despite knowing that, I chose to grin. "I want that." "Then, let's sleep, anak. Promise me you'll have a happy life, a big family and a big house," she said, "I'll be here when you wake up." I wanted to ask more. I wanted to ask why she looked frantic. I wanted to hug her, and tell her that 'I promise.' Yet, she brushed my hair. She played with my strands. Then, she hummed. A sweet slow tune coming out. A short calming tune she repeated. My eyes slowly closed. My body sank on the bed. Her little song resonated inside my head. It was the only thing I heard. As long as I was with my mama, everything was alright. I wouldn't be scared. I'm not scared, mama.

They lived in a big house on a mountain with trees that surrounded them. Yet, the colors were bland and dull. It was almost lifeless. But, the colors were what reminded me of the day that I made a promise with my mama, a comfort woman, in the year 1942 when photographs were black and white, and when it was at war which had faded lives among thousands. Including mama. My eyes started to become hazy. My body was already old. It had been years since then. It had been so long since I've seen my mama. I missed her with each passing day. But as I looked at the painting, I could rest easy knowing that I had fulfilled our dreams. Slowly, I felt my weight sink back on the bed. A faint echo of my mama's tune could be heard somewhere in the room. It was the only thing I could hear. It repeated again. And again. And again…

"Lolo?" I was back in the unknown. Everything dawned to me in an instant. My head ached from the rush. Once I saw the woman sitting beside me on this hospital bed, I felt my head clear and my shoulders relax. I smiled.

Mama's fingers still twirled the strands of my hair. It was warm. I wasn't cold. I wasn't scared. Everything became dark, and I wasn't scared. I’m not scared.

"Matulog ka na, apo," I told her as I weakly reached out to touch her curly hair, "it's time for your siesta." Across the room from me hung an art piece framed on the wall; a beautiful painting of a family with the father, the mother, and their children.

"Anak?" I hear faintly, "gising ka na, anak."

Natutulog sa Hapon Sleeping in the Afternoon Sleeping with the Japanese

SAFE

SPACES BY SALITANG WAKIN

your mind lives and lingers in doubt, perhaps in the midst of it all. with thoughts locked inside, you wear a smile, in hopes of hiding the pain. but I know a place — a paradox of an ending where the future will become your story your life your history so set your mind free — perhaps, where there are safe spaces around

KAHIBAW

BY ANTHONIETTE MERCADO

Kahibaw kong nagkalisud ka Kahibaw kong gikapoy nasad ka Apan wa ko nimo pahibaw-a Pero okay ra ha, di nimo sala Basta timan-i Naa ra ko diri permi Ang kalipay, kasakit, ug kaguol, isulti Ug ako maghuwat sa imong ngisi 37

Pasensya-i lang ko, do, Ug kulit na mangutana, magpahibalo. Kay di jud ko mubuhi nimo Di ko kapoyan ug ikaw ang isturyaan Basta ayaw kalimti Nagapabilin ra ko diri Ang kalipay, kasakit, ug kaguol, isulti Ug ako maghuwat ra dinhi

THE

DECLARATION BY CYRIL ANDRE DURANGO

I stood restless, defenseless, and vulnerable. I was unable to step back. I walked towards him without any hesitation. My heartbeat was a drum, rhythmically beating faster and faster and faster. Sweat dripped out of my almostpale face. It was when I finally mustered up the courage to tell him– “I like you,” I said, without holding back. He scratched his head, not knowing what to say. But instead of having him speak, I immediately said, “Yes, it’s weird that I am saying this out loud…” No words came out of his mouth. I saw the shock in his eyes. I tried to be neutral on the outside despite my insides raging in fear. Every second seemed like a millennium as it passes. “But I like you,” I said again. But there was no denying it. I kept thinking of what would happen after. Will we ever be friends again? Will his perception of me change? Will he be able to accept the fact that I am confessing for clarity and not for the possibility of getting together? I don’t know. I kept holding back my feelings because it was unnecessary. I didn’t want the friendship that we had established throughout the years to vanish into the air. I didn’t want those special memories of what we had become meaningless.

I remember when we were in a band. He played the guitar; I played the piano. I remembered the days when we played songs together in front of a crowd. I remember the rhythms we practiced and the songs we composed. The sounds of our instruments brought together a single harmony that plays forever. His song sang in my head on repeat. His melody entranced my heart and left me still. I remembered the chess matches we kept playing in our free time. I watched his every move and gesture closely. I watched him as he looked at me, but my next move was me looking away. I watched him smile as he won in our several chess matches because I was dumb to see the upcoming checkmate. This checkmate, however– I saw it coming, but he didn’t. gestures entrapped me and defenseless like a rook taking queen. His moves entrapped my left me still.

His slight left me away my heart and

Every time my mind pictures of his eyes and smile, paragraphs spit out of my beating heart. Sentences flowed out of my brain, describing how defenseless I became. Logic cannot do anything but watch, as my emotions controlled every action. I cannot do anything but watch as I slowly fall into his eyes.

At that time, hate came over me. It was as if an invisible hand is slowly crushing my heart, squeezing out its blood and rendering it useless, rendering me lifeless. I hated that every beat of my heart is inescapable torture, like iron nails poking from the inside and trying to get out. I wanted it—the admiration, the adoration, the infatuation, the overall feeling—to stop.

I stood restless, defenseless, and vulnerable. I was unable to step back. I started to walk towards him without any hesitation. Then– I saw him with a girl. I saw how she gave him smiles and lighted up his face. But I was at no place to interfere. He was happy. He is happy.

But my heart kept beating regardless. “Well,” I broke the silence. That was all I had to say. “Have a good day.” I was about to walk away, accepting his silence as a response. “Wait,” he grabbed my hand. I looked at him in the eyes, and all the feelings came rushing in. He looked at me with those black eyes; those eyes that once dragged me into the abyss of admiration. I could see in his face a tone of uncertainty, and nervousness showed. He opened his mouth, trying to say something. I couldn’t make out the words. I couldn’t read his lips. I start to open my eyes and realize that I... was nowhere near him. Truthfully, I was just there looking at him , from afar, like before.

My heart calmed down, from a roaring sea of thunderous waves into a single wave silently crashing into the sand. I felt the cool of the air conditioner pass through my face, instantly removing all of the built-up sweat. At that moment, I knew I could never be his. I smiled. I walked away from the romantic scenery, with eyes tearing up happiness and regret. Held in my hand is a heart that has tasted the slight aftertaste of bitter happiness. Held in my mind is the declaration of my unsolicited confession. A cursed imagination. A fabricated fictional tale deemed to be true.

AKO SI

TONYO BY NNKNWRT

Ako si Tonyo At ang tawag nila sa akin ay salot sa lipunan Dahil ako’y mahirap at sila’y mayayaman Dahil ako’y nagnanakaw ng isang tinapay sa eskinita na may tindahan Dahil ako’y nakatuloy sa isang iskuwater at sila’y sa mansyon nilang tahanan Ngunit ano nga ba ang magagawa Kung ako’y hinihila pababa Ng gutom sa sikmura At ang kaya lamang ay sapat na pambayad sa mga utang Hindi dapat husgahan Ang tulad kong maralita Sapagkat kami’y naiiba Sa tulad ninyong may malinis na mukha Sa tulad ninyong nagnanakaw ng milyon mula sa kaban ng bayan Sa tulad ninyong naniniwalang ang hustisya ay nababayaran Siguro ay totoo Na ang mundong may pagkakapantay-pantay ay isa lamang ilusyon Siguro ay totoo Na lahat ay kumakapit sa patalim At ito’y mananatiling lihim Para sa iba Para sa isa Na naniniwala na Siguro ay totoo Na lahat tayo ay salot sa lipunan Ngunit ang iba ay nakabalot sa mapalinlang na patsada na tinatawag na karangyaan.

CORNERS

OF MY

ROOM BY VAN

Four corners, one room, How many months has it been? Since I've been stuck in this prison? A place where all emotions disperse caused by isolation. The shadows of the darkness have chained me once before, Yet I’m struggling with fighting my inner fears, desires and so much more, Pitifully seeking for help, I've started to seek for attention, A thought that It has never occurred once in my life but is now the fuel for my motivation. As I tried to show it all to you, you ignored me and made me realize the depths of hell. I was alone again and no pillars of the mighty could create a path for me to escape. Stuck in a sticky like bridge, fall so clear, as if made of tape, I've decided to let you all be and for your lives to blossom and not to reshape. I have no regrets in putting myself into the abyss, I'm not giving up, my ray of hope for just a kiss. I'll strive and look up despite being raised up by tears that’s filled the void of this darkness. Four corners, one room, with me in the middle, I'll someday escape greeting you all with happiness.

SA ISANG MADILIM NA

PANGYAYARI BY MAXINE ALESSANDRA PABRACUER

Mahigit isang taon na ang nakaraan, Noong umatake ang pandemya sa ating bayan, Maraming trabaho ng ating mga kababayan ay tila nahinto ng tuluyan, At nagmistulang bilanggo tayo sa ating mga tahanan. Maraming mga Pilipino ang araw-araw nakikipaglaban sa hindi makitang kalaban, Lumilikha ng sari-saring bakuna upang sa ngayon ay magkaroon tayo ng pananggalang, Ngunit bakit? Bakit tila nahihirapan tayong ito'y malampasan? Na sa bawat araw tayo ay pinapaalalahanan. Isang taon na rin ang nakaraan, Noong unang sumiklab ang hindi makitang kalaban, Na kahit sa ating edukasyon ay maraming nahihirapang kabataan, Nahihirapan sa bagong sistema, dahil wala silang natutunan. Isang madilim na pangyayari ang bumalot sa bansa, Na nagdulot sa maraming Pilipino upang magdusa, Lalo na sa mga kabataan, na naging sanhi ng kanilang pagkabalisa, At sa araw-araw na tayo ay humaharap nito, unti-unti tayong nawawalan ng pag-asa. Isang madilim na pangyayari man ang dumating, Ngunit alam ko na tayo ay magiting, Matatag at magiting na sa bawat hamon ay kaya nating harapin, Isang madilim na pangyayari na tiyak akong matatapos din.

ABILITY BY LUIS P.A.

From that breath of fresh air, as light finds our first blink, Weighed down by our mother’s care, we feel the inability to think. Learning how to walk, to speak, hissed by the tongues around us. Graceful actions, words are meek, vision shifts as fear lusts. Apprentices of life we become, With cracks beneath each step. Heart’s desire, mind’s criticism, A mirrored battle, we fall in depth. And from that breath of air, path’s distinct, fear’s extinct. Lifted by courage and one’s care, inscribed in pages by one’s ink, ...we feel the ability to think.

CHOOSING

BATTLES BY ERYKA BERTULFO

Issues here and there, lining up in the queue. Afraid to talk, but action demands "What are you doing, my friend?" —I should've thought of it in advance. Frustration and anger are eating you That’s a teen rage, is it true? Rants that’ll make you feel better Didn’t you see the sequel that may destroy you forever?.

Oh, c’mon, my dear friend, take it easy In this world we’re in, life can’t be breezy. Choose what makes you good and brilliant Battles are meant to fight, so stay resilient. Save your time only for the things that matter. Never fight or argue—that will do you shatter Let go of the rest and make them flatter Face what’s more important... ...and be smarter.

EDITORIA 2021

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