31/08/2025
The Cry Awoke: A Lament for the Philippines
I am but one,
A quiet soul among the millions—
But silence no longer suits the times.
Now, we need voices—
Tired, trembling, breaking voices—
The cries of a people long ignored.
Each day, I rise before the sun,
Chasing hours in crowded streets,
Worn and weary,
Returning home under the same dim sky—
All for a wage that barely breathes.
This is my country.
I love it,
But loving it is a daily grief.
To fight for it feels like drowning,
In waters ruled by thieves.
Justice here wears a blindfold too tight,
Not in fairness—but in fear.
The scales are tipped,
The laws are sold,
The guilty grin while the hungry grow old.
Our institutions—
Once symbols of service—
Now rust beneath the weight of greed.
Their promises are printed lies,
Folded in envelopes, passed beneath tables.
We are told to endure.
To be patient.
To keep our heads low.
But how can we,
When every peso stolen
Is a meal taken,
A dream delayed,
A life unlived?
Yet—
From the cracks in silence,
A cry awakens.
Not from palaces or podiums,
But from the ground.
From classrooms, jeepneys, markets, fields—
A single voice, then another—
Until it becomes a storm.
And though they have tried to drown us,
To divide us,
To silence our grief—
They forget:
Even the quietest river
Can carve stone,
If it never stops moving.
We are that river now.
