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The Torch Publications Visayas, Cadiz City (2025)

24/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 20 | 𝐏𝐚𝐠-𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐚

Ikaw ang pag-ibig, nais
Nang pusong uhaw sa pansin
Ikaw laging iniisip
Iaalay ang dugo't pawis

Handang dungisan ang kamay,
Basta mahawakan ka lang
Puso't isip, iaalay
Sa ganda mong mapanlinlang

Sobrang hirap mong suyuin
Mahal, napakatampuhin
O Pera ko! O pera ko!
Ikaw ang iniibig ko

Dumampi ka, sa 'kin palad
Paruparo kung lumipad
Handang maging alipin mo
Pag-ibig mo, nais ko

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑨𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑪. 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒂
𝑳𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕 | 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒉 𝑺𝒖𝒂𝒚

21/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 19 | 𝐎𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐞

The pictures have torn apart, the medals now rusted, the leaves have withered—time has flown like a
thunderstrike, it's been so long, oh dear, old me. Am I grieving for you? Maybe, maybe not; there have been too many things that changed; too many things have run away.

And this feeling, this disorienting feeling... when I try to look back, it feels like I am lost, gone from the
road I thought I was venturing into. So far from what I thought I would be—too far. But isn't that nice, oh
dear, old me? You've grown up, past beyond what you thought you were and just, past beyond the things
you thought would always stay constant.

Existing truly is like a tangled yarn; it runs wild, unorganized, and maybe sometimes... free. No matter how much I try to look back, I can't get my way around. Where is my way back? Where have I gone to? I am in a constantly moving maze that feels like an unresolvable riddle.

I'll always grieve for what I was, for that's the only thing that I could do, and maybe that's just how things
are supposed to be: to not stay immovable, to drift away through when the wind demands you to, to be untethered to your past, and to just be something else—something more.

I miss you, oh dear, old me, but I have to go on, for each thread of my being has been stitched anew,
redefined and fresh. There are a lot of things unraveling before my eyes, and the only thing I could do is to look back for just a few fleeting moments.

Going back would, in fact, make me feel safe, but going back would make me feel missing.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑹𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑴𝒐𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒙 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔

20/10/2025

𝐈𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐮'𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬, 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚'𝐭 𝐓𝐮𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧!

Sa pagpasok ng panibagong linggo, patuloy ang The Torch Publication Visayas sa paghatid ng mga napapanahon, makatotohanan, at makabuluhang balita. Hindi mawawalan ng panulat para sa bawat PNUan.

Sa ikatatlumpu’t dalawang isyu, hawak-kamay nating ipagbunyi ang tagumpay ng ating bayan habang patuloy na nagmamatyag sa mga kaganapan. Maging mapanuri at magsilbing boses ng katotohanan tungo sa mabuting hinahangad.

𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙖. 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢. 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞-𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙝!

𝑰𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒏, 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 🪶

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑨𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏
𝑳𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕: 𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒐

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1kPxuwKkkQQU4677QSoMjk5kbP44JKNTA/view?usp=drivesdk

18/10/2025

"𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐀"

I am Esperanza—
quiet, sometimes demure,
walls built high,
a stiffness mistaken for silence.

What if years weigh gently,
and comfort wraps our days,
and in every corner
lives my fear?

In everything there’s Julia—
charming, easy-going,
a spark that laughs at the shadows
of my conservativeness.

What if my Alfredo
grows tired of my stillness,
trades my safe horizon and my walls
for her sudden sunrise,
her promise of what ifs and excitement?

The ache I fear is this:
to be chosen only out of duty,
not desire;
to be the comfort,

not the fire.

But hear me now:
if my fear comes true, I will not remain Esperanza,
accepting betrayal’s quiet hand.

If he strays,
I will become a star—
burnt out,
distant,
still untouchable.

Dead,
yet shining—
once and always beyond reach.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍 𝑱𝒐𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒂
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒐

17/10/2025

"𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚 𝐀𝐤𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠"

Minsan, namamangha ang aking mga mata sa mga medalyang nakasabit sa bawat sulok ng aming sala. Ako’y napapatulala sa mga gintong tropeo na itinatampok sa tuktok ng kabinet ni Mama. Nakangiti ako habang pinagmamasdan ang mga larawan, hawak ang mga sertipikong nagpatunay ng aking mga tagumpay.

Paulit-ulit kong pinipilit kumbinsihin ang aking sarili na magaling at matalino ako. Kasi nga, palagi namang nasa Top 10 ang pangalan ko. Laging 90 pataas ang aking mga marka. Ni isang pagkakataon, hindi ko naranasan ang magdanas ng kabiguan o ang magka-bagsak na grado.

Ngunit habang tumatagal ang mga araw at patuloy kong binabaybay ang landas ng aking buhay, nagsisimula akong magtaka: Bakit parang nag-iba na ako ngayon?

Kung dati, ako’y palaging sumasali sa pagtula, pag-arte, at pagrampa, ngayon, sa bawat programa, isa na lamang ako sa mga nanonood, pumapalakpak na may halong pangungulila. Kung dati, ako ang kumakapit sa bawat pagkakataon upang sumali sa mga club ng paaralan, ngayon, iisa na lamang ang aking pinipili. Kung dati, ang mga kamay ko ay mabilis na tumataas upang magbigay ng sagot, ngayon, tila ang bigat ng mga palad ko, at ang mga ito’y parang nais tumangging magtaas ng kamay. At isang araw, tinawag ako ni Ma’am upang sagutin ang tanong na tila kay dali lang. Ngunit, sa isang iglap, tila naglaho ang lahat ng aking alam. Bigla akong nablanko, at ang mga salita ko ay natangay ng hangin. Nauutal ako habang nagsasalita at ang mga mata ko ay naghanap ng tulong, ngunit natagpuan ko ang aking sarili na tahimik na bumalik sa aking upuan.

Ang tanging tunog na bumasag sa nakakabinging katahimikan ng silid-aralan ay ang sigaw ko, isang sigaw na tinig ng aking pagkatalo. Hindi ko kayang magsalita. Hindi ko kayang humarap sa mga mata ni Ma’am. Ako’y nakayuko lamang.

Pilit kong pinipigilan ang mga luhang unti-unting umaagos sa aking mga mata.

At doon ko na lamang napagtanto...

Hindi naman pala talaga ako magaling.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒂 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒐

16/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 18 | 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬

They rise not for wages,
nor for medals cast in gold.
They rise for love—
for the pulse of a neighbor,
for the cry of a stranger,
for the call of a nation wounded.

Hands that sweep shores clean,
feet that walk miles to teach,
voices that stir hope in silence—
these are not crimes,
these are gifts.

To punish kindness
is to chain the light,
to dim the very flame
that keeps our world from
drowning in neglect.

Volunteers are not offenders,
they are bridges across divides,
threads that stitch the torn fabric
of our shared humanity.

Say no—
no to laws that bruise compassion,
no to walls built against service,
no to fear that silences the willing heart.

For when we penalize volunteers,
we do not just wound the givers—
we betray the future
that their selfless acts
try to build.
Let gratitude be the verdict,
not punishment.

Let honor be their sentence,
not blame.
And let the world remember:
A society that uplifts its volunteers
is a society that still believes
in hope.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑨𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑩𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒔
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒂

15/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 17 | 𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨

Time flows soft, a murmured stream.
Dreams drift light, like summer gleam.
Grasp them firm, they still dissolve.
Moments fade, their paths revolve.

Threads so fine, we weave, unwind.
Life breathes out, then folds behind.
The fleeting flame we hold, refrains.
Whispers linger where silence reigns.

Memory's ghost, a silvered glass.
Reflects the shapes of what must pass.
A phantom touch, a fleeting scent,
On breezes of the time we've spent.

A fragile song the heart recites,
Of borrowed days and borrowed nights.
We chase the echo, faint and sweet,
A pulse of life in each heartbeat.

Of silent stories in the dust,
Of fading loves, of broken trust.
A breath, a sigh, a falling tear,
Dissolved by an unending year.

The future's face, a hollow gaze,
Lost in a past of fleeting days.
We cling to what we can't reclaim,
An ember of a forgotten flame.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒛𝒚 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒂𝒎-𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒂 𝑩𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒂

14/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 16 | 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐧

takot akong lampasan ng panahon.

sa tuwing sasakay ako ng jeep, palagi kong sinusubukang sumiksik sa unahan o kahit
makaangkas manlang sa pinakadulong upuan. natuto rin akong palaging dumating ng
eksakto sa oras at maging maalam sa pagkuwenta—hindi lampas, hindi bawas. malimit
akong sumabay sa linya ng karamihan, kahit pa masikip o nagkukumpulan.

siguro, takot lang akong mahuli—mapag-iwanan.

nasanay kasi akong maging isa sa isanlibong madla. kung saan sila, doon ako. kung nakausad
ang iba, dapat isa ako sa kanila. hindi ko gustong nakatanaw lang sa mga yapak nilang
humahakbang palapit sa kanilang inaasam habang ako’y nakabaon pa rin ang mga paa sa
putikan. ayokong manatili sa lugar na matagal ko nang tinalikuran. ayokong bumalik sa dati
kong nakasanayan.

kaya sa tuwing nakikita ko ang aking mga kasabayang may mga katibayan na ng kanilang
katagumpayan, hindi ko mapigilang magtanong kung hanggang dito lang ba ako? kasi, sa
totoo lang, hindi ko gustong mangapa panghabangbuhay sa daang matagal nang iniwanan ng iilan.

ayokong maging pangkaraniwan lang.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍 𝑱𝒐𝒚 𝑽. 𝑫𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒆 𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

13/10/2025

𝐈𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐮'𝐭 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬, 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚!

Ang The Torch Publications Visayas ay muling naghahatid ng makatotohanang impormasyon at makabuluhang kaisipan para sa PNUans.

Sa ikatatlumpu't isang isyu, patuloy nating isulong ang paninindigan para sa pagbabago, katotohanan, at kaalaman sa ating pamantasan at maging sa lipunan.

𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙖. 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢. 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞-𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙝!

𝑰𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒏, 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 🪶

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑵𝒆𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒉 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐
𝑳𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕: 𝑺𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒕

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Rjq0UaeoJGeOjbyrkdsWRztncicJt1Qk/view?usp=drivesdk

12/10/2025

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓
𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨. 15 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

He wakes before the sun,
Not because he’s rested—he’s not.
But because dreams don’t wait,
And neither does the pain.

His shoes are tired.
His heart, more so.
He walks through crowded hallways
With a smile so practiced
It could win awards,
If only they gave trophies
For pretending you’re okay.

At home, the silence is loud.
The fridge hums louder than the voices that used to say “I’m proud of you.”
He studies beside flickering lights,
While arguments echo through thin walls.
He learned to read through tears,
To memorize formulas while tuning out the sound of breaking things.

He skips meals.
Not because he’s dieting,
But because there’s not enough.
He tells his classmates he’s full,
Laughs it off,
While his stomach writes poems of hunger
He’ll never recite.

He’s the quiet one.
The one who doesn’t raise his hand,
Not because he doesn’t know the answer,
But because his voice shakes
And he’s tired of being invisible
And still somehow too much.

He’s tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of being strong.
Tired of smiling when he wants to disappear.

But he shows up.
Every day.
Every quiz.
Every group project where no one remembers his name.
He shows up.

Because somewhere deep inside him and the ache,
Is a flicker of purpose.
A dream not yet surrendered.
A goal that whispers, “Keep going.”

He fights.
Not with fists or fury,
But with presence.
With persistence.
With the quiet courage of someone who refuses to be defeated.

He may not be the loudest in the room,
Nor the one with medals and applause.
But he is the one who endures.
Who rises.
Who dares to believe that even broken wings can still fly.

And one day,
When the world finally sees the strength it overlooked,
They will ask him how he did it.

He will smile genuinely this time and say—“I never stopped showing up.”

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑱𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑬𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒃𝒂𝒏
𝑨𝒓𝒕 | 𝑱𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒂 𝑱𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒚

10/10/2025

𝑻𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒇𝒇 𝒐𝒇 𝑷𝑵𝑼 𝑽𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒔,

Your unwavering dedication, tireless efforts, and commitment to excellence continue to inspire and uplift the entire university. Thank you for your years of passionate service, for nurturing future educators and for being the strong foundation of the PNU Visayas community.

Your impact goes far beyond the four walls of the classroom—it lives on in every student’s life you've touched. 💙💛

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒂 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐
𝑽𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓: 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝑱𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒐
𝑽𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐 𝑬𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒂 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒐

10/10/2025

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐀 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚

While others awaited their journey to other nations, two students took their courage, carried not only their bags but also their passion for teaching and learning across borders. An opportunity to explore other landscapes and take part in teaching and cross-cultural exchange. Along with their journey, they carry a representation that connects them beyond barriers when they stay in a new culture and environment.

Two students from the Philippine Normal University Visayas, along with other students from different campuses, underwent a 30-day International Practicum at Universitas Kristen Indonesia (UKI). The two students, Jhoanne Lingan and Mherfel Jane Singson, from the Bachelor of Early Childhood Education (BECED) program, participated in classroom observation, co-teaching, and lesson planning. They observed how teachers there adhere to the student-centered approach system, how they are organized, and how passionate teachers are in every activity they do. Their journey goes beyond barriers. Despite the language differences and nervousness, they feel the connection, learning, and excitement.

“The way the kids looked at me with excitement, the way they’d try to speak English just to connect, and the way I learned to express myself through actions, all of it reminded me that teaching is a language of the heart,” Mherfel explained. Meanwhile, Jhoanne shared, "‎This experience has broadened my perspective on education and reinforced my passion for teaching,” emphasizing that education is not limited to borders. "Learning from them brings development in teaching, as well as promoting partnership that adheres to a single goal that is—quality education," she added.

Beyond professional gain, they immerse themselves in the atmosphere of learning, and they feel the passion, patience, and genuine care from the community. Perhaps this journey brings a desire of longing for home, but for them, they feel home in a place that is far away from home, a warm welcome and kindness they felt—stays forever.

𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑮𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆
𝑳𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕: 𝑬𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒂 𝑴𝒊𝒕𝒛 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒐

The Torch Publications Visayas

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