Paper in the wind Ferdinand Lance Narciso Launico (STM11) I VI Your figure was almost one with the sky Maybe I’m fine living a bitter lie Amidst humid winds and soft rain showers In hindsight, it’s just simply immature At that time, although I couldn’t tell why, I’ve nothing to show for it otherwise You truly were stuck within that summer But I suppose that’s just in my nature II VII Could there ever be a place for me here? My deeds are perversion of my thoughts, Underneath a sun that’s just out of reach Or maybe I had meant the lack thereof, You were tiptoeing on water so clear To go much further and give it a shot While I wrote poetry at the white beach Can’t forgive myself for falling in love III VIII Choking on words I’ve been wanting to say It can be rather selfish either way, I can only make distant songs out of them At least that’s what I’ve always been thinking Letting another excuse end the day Even so, I can’t tell you why I’ve stayed I simply do all of these on a whim Time’s hands have long since muddled the meaning IV IX I count the years that have come and gone by My fantasies are confined in black ink And look towards the horizon, loathing That piece of paper I left by the shore, These thoughts have been violating my mind Where you move further on with every blink As they always do from the beginning And where I couldn’t take it anymore V X I couldn’t forget that summer either If only I could forget about you, The breeze heading my way as it picks up I’m just tripping over your memories Would such a thing really be a bother? Cherishing them as I walk to the blue I just never really knew when to stop To become one with the sky and the sea 51
ELIXIR Within the Cottage of Nature 52 Jethro Dela Cerna
The house without a roof Marcea Alcala The door isn’t closed all the way. So, I screamed. “Close the door!” I yelled as the long light beaming through the tiny space found my vision. With no response, I hurriedly rolled off to the edge of my bed, heavily stomped my feet, and killed the blinding crack of the door. Closing my eyes, I dejectedly laid on the hard mattress again—only to discover that my eyelids aren’t enough to lower the brightness of my room. I don’t even know why I still hope that someday they will. After all, hope does nothing more than make me long for things I cannot have. So, I put my sun-burned hands against my eye. As if a little more light could hurt me, as if I didn’t live with the infinite view of blinding clouds constantly getting kneaded by the wind. Listening to my steady heartbeat, I closed my eyes and savored the moment until my brother opened the door for the second time that minute. Bang! Bang! Bang! “I told you Declan, get up! Hurry, the game is ending already. We need you!” Alex shouted at me and managed to even leave the door painfully wider than before. It took us three weeks to finalize our play strategy today. Mia, my sister, used to persuade her friends into teaching her how to drive in exchange for cleaning their roofed houses. Her peer-influenced driving course only ran for a few weeks since she just turned legal enough to do so. Now, she would be on the vibrating third base. Alex, my younger brother, had been the fastest among us. He used to fill his room with medals from middle school track races, until his legs started to experience the chronic hugs of paternal love. He will be the stationary pitcher on the second base. And I will be on the first. Truth be told, there actually is not a single sporty gene running in my genes. In fact, I think my hands would be too tired to even keep up with my siblings’ delicate ones. But alas, here I am, leading the game as the batter. We would be playing in the field, and so I was hoping again that it wouldn’t rain. It would be sad if we experience another con of a roofless house. More so if it means ending up like our grandmother—sewing and sewing in front of the television, even if the water is rising past her knees. I wouldn’t blame my grandmother for giving all her focus into the television though. If I was in her place, I would die to watch documentaries about elixirs too. I would just be there, imagining what it would feel like to have the chance of changing something, bottled up in a colorful vial. 53
ELIXIR Halting what would be my first pregame routine, I spread the light from the door wide open, went out, and finally played. The rules are simple, really. Even if there were no umpire, we would play by the rules. No talking, no hesitations, only doing. Maybe we were born for this, maybe not. Either way, we trained to become champions. And don’t even get me started on our reward. Yes, prizes are recyclable lessons. Prizes are materials. And today, we will win some of them. We should. As soon as Mia caught my eye, she rang the battery-generated horn in her base, signaling start. Then, Alex finally grabbed the ball by its neck, and pitched it towards me. Four meters. Three seconds. Five-and-a-quarter drunk steps. Holding the bat, I swinged its sharpness across the ball. The ball that repeatedly brought us bruises, restricted us from being fed, broke my brother’s legs, made our mother hurriedly leave without even packing her bags, and was the reason why our house was roofless. Homerun. After the game ended, we decided to play an entirely different one. We ditched the pitcher’s gloves and the bat, then created a new gaming equipment—using the prizes that we won today, along with our grandmother’s sewing kit. The same one she used four weeks before. You could say that we love being sustainable. I mean, it definitely runs in our family—with the roofless house and all. The needles from the biscuit sewing can have been curved by the constant stitching force as if it were wires of an electricity cable. Yet, our shaking hands have managed to sew the corners of our prize until our tiny childish fingers meet each other, coated with crimson and sweat. Homerun. A free ambulation without being put-out or penalized with an error. And so, we ran and ran away from our roofless house, then over the fields. And when the wind became strong, we flied our new improvised kites—made with my father’s bloody clothes. We are free. 54
The antidote to a corrupted world Wrenzhie Arroyo “It’s all meaningless,” my father said as the blazing midday sun illuminated the four-cornered room. I was watching the afternoon news, and he was listening from the kitchen, cooking Adobo—my favorite. The deep smell of garlic, vinegar, and pepper filled the air as Dad stirred it, the mouthwatering aroma made my stomach growl in hunger as it entered my nostrils. I could tell it was going to be a long and fulfilling lunch. Or so I thought. “What could their strikes and shouting do? They’re all the same, those politicians. Nothing’s going to change.” He was now putting the Adobo on our dining table, and I helped him prepare the plates when he suddenly flashed his eyes on me. “Calista, do not join those when you grow up, alright? You don’t know what might happen to you,” he said. And that afternoon incident lingered on my mind for years. That was the last time I heard from him. Parents know best. So, I followed. Until I felt like it wasn’t right anymore, and an event occurred that changed my viewpoint. *** I stood still, not knowing what to do as I watched the pavement that was once gray, turn into another color. My brother was pooling in red liquid, the stench of metal reeks in the chilly air of September night. Paramedics surrounded his body and checked for a pulse and when I saw how they shook their heads, I felt the way Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. A heavy burden I can’t seem to lift. Not now, and not ever. Why did my brother die such a horrible death? Why was he taken from me so easily? What did he do to deserve such a thing? Questions of why and what were the only things that were running through my mind. And my brother. My sweet brother whom I spent my whole life growing up with and never once did he have any vice. My brother who still can’t sleep without his teddy bear from childhood is the same boy they are accusing of using illegal substances. Flickering lights and the sound of the camera shuttering surrounded me as numerous people took photos of my brother’s cold body. Some looked empathetic, some faked their pity, and I could swear to the heavens above how their eyes almost turned into the shape of money, eyes bulging wide with excitement at how much money they can get by the simple click of their hands. 55
ELIXIR “Calista!” My mother approached me, sweat glistening on her forehead as she looked at me. Worry was evident in her eyes and when she was all sure that I was not hurt, she tucked me in her arms, hugging me tightly. Her shoulders went up and down as she sobbed uncontrollably and the dam of my eyes broke, tears flowing down my cheeks as we both mourned. We are now the only ones left. *** Months after my family’s tragedy, my mother and I were trying our best to move forward. The case is still ongoing, and we are praying to the heavens above to serve justice upon my brother’s death. Suddenly, as we were eating dinner on a Friday night, we both froze when we heard the news. “Disi-sais anyos na lalaki, patay matapos masangkot sa drug operation na isinagawa ng mga pulis…” My mother and I locked eyes with each other and at that certain moment, we both understood what was happening. “It happened again,” she said. “Another victim…another innocent life was lost.” As she kept talking, a memory of the blazing afternoon heat resurfaced from the deepest corners of my mind. My heart ached at the thought but the burning passion was more intense. I had enough. Now I stood in front of a grave, Luisito Cruz was carved on the gravestone. I placed the bouquet of daffodils down together with the candle I lit. The place was quiet, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. “Pa, it’s been a while,” I said. I took a deep breath as I continued to tell him the purpose of my visit. “Years ago, you told me not to join them because it seems to you that hope was lost. But Calisto’s now gone, Pa, and now months after his death, another innocent boy became a victim.” I smiled bitterly. “I cannot remain silent anymore when injustice is everywhere, Pa. The strikes and shouting you find meaningless give people light in this world when everything seems like a hopeless case,” I said, fire igniting within me. “I am going to join them in this fight. To give them a chance. Because hope…it was never lost, Papa. The hope we’re looking for is in us,” I said, conviction laced in my tone. “I hope that wherever you are, Calisto and you are happy. I love you both.” I wiped a tear that escaped my eyes, caressed the gravestone one last time, and left with an unwavering resolve that no earthquake could shatter. All this time, we were looking for a savior to end this suffering. Little did we know, we were the key, the lone ingredient for the solution. 56
Day of Judgment Cecilia Nazarine Bic5o7l
ELIXIR Pastor’s Psalm 58 Reanne Ashley Roguel
Pagsusumamo sa pagdududa Pia Heart Lambuson & Ara Janine Palecpec Mga rebulto at aninong humahatol mula sa ginintuang dambana sa isang makasalanang natupok ng tukso lumilihis, patungong tarangkahan Malalim na paghinga, pihado at buo ang pasya hanggang makarinig ng musikang susuyo sa pusong nagdududa Sa yapos ng pagkaakit, muling umiinog ang sampalataya dumadapo ang kahinaan sa mga paa at nanunumbalik sa pasilyong patungo sa altar Sa pagkakataong ito, hinayaang halikan ng tuhod ang baldosa habang magkahawak ang sariling mga kamay at bumulong nang taimtim. 59
ELIXIR Infusion of false rejuvenation Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes the cauldron simmers and seethes with our brew as the trickling sweat pursues its residue. breeding flames, increasing lethal exposure, neglecting all from the existing mediocre. there is nothing but constant clamor, as such is the destruction of foolish miracles. the aftertaste mimics late mending entitlement simply from tailoring these cogent arguments. thus, the choking begins from thick disclaimers, rife whispers and various adversities revealed, all solely from what this deterioration yields and meticulous yearns left unfulfilled. lingering is the duration of moments left, the concoction and its inevitable corruption, no lizard’s tail or brewed eye of a frog to recover the caution of what’s now lost. 60
Art by Ma. Gizelle Nicole Sanson ICT11 61
ELIXIR The epitome of happ(i)ness Anina Jiliana Manuel Hellbent; Should the heavens cry a river for you before the petals show their brilliance? Should I scorch scars etching deep into my bones so I can hear your melodious praise? Does my thin and frail body speak my shining glory louder than my parched ushers? O Universe, should I feed my rotting infested flesh into the gnashing beaks of vultures? Abandon; Or should I break the heavy gripping shackles wrapping me tightly till my ankles bled? Should I pluck the flower bald till its vibrance no longer latches into my sanity? Should I run a sharp deadly knife around my ear to deafen me from the serpent’s hisses? O Spirits, should I open my third eye to see whose dark dreary air haunts me? Phlegmatic; Should I just lay bare into the spiky prickly grass until the cold breeze numbs me? Until the dark endless space color my pupils, locking my eyes up into the sky’s turmoil Until my eyebags form deep ravines as I slowly disintegrate, dusts scattering in the air O Earth, can your thin branching vines crawl onto my skin and engulf me in its moist soil? Period of Introspection; Instead, should I let a flower root into my heart and bloom a color of its liking? Let the flowing network of water seep into the soil, quenching the arid lands Singing loud and high to the soaring magnificent white birds inside my ecosystem To once more carry the dark side of the moon within my trembling weak hands 62
Placebo effect Bianca Jan Sibayan Dumadagundong ang mga tinig, mga katunggaling sumisirit. Ang matalinhagang tindig, tinitingala sa kintab ng langit. Sa isang munting tindahan, inalok ng luntiang likido. Unang lagok mula sa sisidlan, dumaloy ang kislap sa kanyang dugo. \"Nasa iyo ang likidong may mahika,” sambit ng balisang estranghero. Humayo bitbit ang pag-asa, pagtungtong sa entablado. Dating bilanggo sa sisidlan, naging malaya sa kristal na bakod. Kuminang sa gitna ng kadiliman, mabighaning pagtanghal ang itinaguyod. Pagsambit ng huling liriko, napalingon sa mga kalaban. Kanya-kanyang bitbit ng lagayan, likidong luntian din ang lulan. 63
ELIXIR 64
Midnight Solace Angienette Laur6z5a
ELIXIR Ginhawa sa kopa Gabriel Dale Tejido Sa liwanag ng minamatang kasalukuyan, at ang mga galos sa makulimlim na kahapon, saan man umihip ang simoy ng pagdiriwang, sisintahin ang mga tala mula sa puwang. Abutin ang praskong inihain, gantimpala sa pagsubok ng katapangan, matapos magising sa nilikhang kadiliman, liligaya sa sikat ng sariling kariktan. Titigan ang kawalan sa mababaw na kalaliman, sa huli, tulad ng mga dahon sa bugso ng hangin, patuloy na aawit ang bulong ng himpapawid, upang haranahin ang mga hamon ng buhay. At sa mga huling tanaw ng maginhawang gabi, mamamahinga sa kaginhawaang handog ng kalis. 66
Solace Nicole Infan6t7e
QUARTZ Quartz Broadens enlightenment conveyed to conclude the speculations. 68
Sa pagitan ng mga linya Marcea Alcala Binibigyang hugis ng kandila ang mga aninong tumatapak sa silid. Sumasayaw ang mitsa sa kumpas ng tahimik na mga yabag mula sa pinto. “Halina, pasok,” bulong ng babae, habang sinasalamin ang suot ng mga aninong balot na balot ng maalikabok na tela. “Allirea, anong ibig sabihin nito?” sumipot ang boses ng isang lalaki at dali-daling lumapit sa loob ng gusali. Tinanggal ng babae ang kaniyang saklob at naliwanagan ng kandila ang kanyang pag- ngiti, “Ngayon ang ating ikawalong-taon na anibersaryo, nakalimutan mo na ba?” Mistulang nakasaksi ang lalaki ng lumulutang na kabayo. “Sandali, hindi ba bukas pa iyon? Alam mo namang delikadong magtipon-tipon sa mga panahong ito. At ni-isang beses ay hindi pa tayo nagpatuloy ng ganyang karami. Paano kung isa sa kanila ay impostor? Paano kapag—” “Ikaw ba talaga ang may-akda ng Pamilya Higit sa Despotismo?” pabirong tanong ng babae. “‘Wag kang mag-alala, sinuri ko na sila. Panoorin mo ito.” Saglit na lumayo ang babae, at bumalik nang may hapit sa pinakamalapit na anino. “Sa aklatan ng bayan, hindi masusunog ng impyerno ang karunungan. Ito’y nakaburda sa kaisipan, kung ang mambabasa ay—” Itinaas ng babae ang kanyang kamay, para bang nagpapasa ng telegrama patungo sa aninong kanyang dala-dala. Hindi pa nakararaos ang isang pintig nang tapusin ng bisita ang kanyang linya, “Naririnig ang mensahe sa pagitan ng linyahan.” “Isipin mo, makakaya bang hanguing parang kidlat ng isang impostor ang mga salita mula sa iyong libro?” ani ng babae. Kibit-balikat na sumang-ayon ang lalaki at umatras papalayo, hanggang sa halos magtugma na ang kanyang likuran sa isang kakaibang itim na pader sa silid. “Mga kasandiwa, simula sa araw na ito, tandaan niyo ito.” Tinupi niya ang kanyang mga daliri, itinaas ito, at ikinatok sa itim na pader ng tatlong malalakas na pagkakasunod. “Huwag na huwag ninyo itong kaliligtaan.” “Ikaw, wala ka bang nakakalimutan?” Lumapit rin ang babae sa kinatatayuan niya. “Gamitin niyo lamang ang katok na iyon dito sa pader na itim. Hindi sa pader ng inyong kapitbahay, at ang pinakamahalaga sa lahat, hindi sa mga pabalat ng libro na makikita ninyo sa loob.” Nabalot ang silid ng mga halakhak. “Ginagarantiya ko sa inyo, hindi mahiwagang magbubukas ang mga libro roon kapag kinatok niyo sila.” Napailing nalang ang lalaki, “Maligayang pagdalo sa inyong lahat. Kung ano man ang makita at marinig ninyo sa lugar na ito, itago niyo ito sa inyong mga puso.” Tumango ang lahat at nagpalakpakan sa pribilehiyong ipinamahagi sa kanila. Humupa na ang kanilang mga tawanan at tinanggal ang mga saklob. Bakas ang sorpresa sa labi ng lalaki. Pamilyar ang mga mata ng karamihan sa kanila. Mga manlalako sa plaza, mga siyentipiko sa nakaraang protesta, at pati na rin ang mga kababaihan na naglilinis sa eskinita papuntang bulwagan. Muling kinausap ng lalaki ang babae sa boses ng isda, “Pakiusap, pag-isipan mo ito muli. Marahil ito’y hindi magandang ideya.” 69
QUARTZ “Huli ka na. Binigay mo na sa kanila ang mahiwagang susi papasok sa pinto. Tara na’t magkasiyahan sa loob.” Pinapasok ng babae ang mga bisita patungo sa sikretong lagusan. Bumungad sa kanila ang naglalakihang mga libro na makikita lamang sa mga palapag ng sikretong aklatan, o sa ibabaw ng mga apoy sa plaza. Kampante sa kapal ng simento na pinagtibay ng walong taon, buong lakas siyang sumigaw sa aklatan, “Salamat sa pakikiisa sa ating anibersaryo. Ngayong gabi, inaalala natin ang ating kasaysayan na isinisigaw ng bawat librong nakapalibot sa’tin ngayon. Sa bawat limbag, matatagpuan ang tanging sandatang hindi pinanday ng nagbubulag-bulagang gobyerno. Dito, matatagpuan ang katotohanang magbibigay katarungan sa ating mga pamilya, sa bayan, at sa ating mga sarili.” Umalingawngaw ang masigabong pagsang-ayon ng mga kasandiwa. “Simula sa araw na ito, hindi lang ako ang tanging tagapangalaga ng aklatang ito, kundi kayo rin. Ako si Allirea, at ang lalaking ito naman,” ngumiti siya at tinuro ang lalaking nakabantay sa lagusan, “ay ang may-akda ng lahat ng librong inyong makikita. Siya ay—” Sumabat din ang lalaki sa introduksyon ni Allirea, “Ay isang taòng hinihintay na ng kanyang asawa upang umuwi. At umaasang hindi na muling patulugin sa lapag ng kanyang sariling bahay.” Nabasag muli ang seryosong hangin ng mga halakhak sa loob ng aklatan. “Pasensya na, ngunit ako’y mauuna na sa pag-alis.” Dali-dali niyang kinuha ang kaniyang saklob at isinuot ito hanggang makatapak sa labas na silid. Sumayaw nanaman ang kandila habang iniinito ang pintuan. Ngunit bago pa man ito mabuksan ng lalaki, napahinto siya ng naghihikahos na boses na kanyang narinig. “Alam kong hindi tayo masyadong kumikita sa pagbebenta ng prohibitadong mga aklat, ngunit sa tingin ko’y kailangan mo na talagang mamuhunan sa bagong saklob na mayroong mas maayos na bulsa,” hinabol niya ang kaniyang hininga at nag-abot ng isang pirasong papel. “Nahulog mo ito.” Dali-daling kinuha ng lalaki ang papel sa kamay ni Allirea na para bang nagliliyab ito. Mistulang lumunok siya ng sangay at nagsalita nang hindi man lang inabot ang paningin ng babae. “Salamat. Uuwi na ako ngayon…Maligayang anibersaryo.” “Sandali lang, huminahon ka,” lumuhod ang babae sa kanyang harapan. “Sa tingin ko ay maiintindihan naman ni Teresa kung bakit nahuli sa pag-uwi ang kanyang asawa ngayong espesyal na gabi.” Inabot niya ang bota ng lalaki at tinulungan itong suotin. Isang mainit na pagtawa naman ang sinagot ng lalaki. Mistulang mas niliwanagan nito ang silid kaysa sa kandilang nakatirik sa sulok. Sunod-sunod na parang paglilipat ng mga pahina mula sa pamagat hanggang epilogo. Nakakahawa, hanggang sa ito’y magtapos sa mga hikbi. Hinanap ng lalaki ang balikat ng kanyang kapatid. Pilit na tumingin ito sa mga mata nito, at sinabi ang mga katagang, “Ang tanging magagawa nalang natin ay patunugin ang alarma.” Sabay ng pagkunot ng noo ni Allirea ang kanyang pagtanong, “Ano’ng ibig mong sabihin?” Itinaas ng lalaki ang papel na nahulog sa kanyang saklob at binuksan ito. Ika-pitong gusali. Tuazon Street. Pakiusap, palayain niyo na ang aking asawa. Sampung-beses na mas tumahimik ang payapang silid. Naririnig ng tagapangalaga at ng manunulat ang pagtibok ng kanilang mga puso. At sa isang saglit, hiniling nila na sana’y inilibing nalang ng kanilang tibok ang tunog ng tatlong sumunod na katok. Hindi sa pinto, kundi sa malamig na sahig. Tatlong pagtalbog, isang granada ang sumabog. 70
The Anniversary Liam Nico Sulliva7n1
QUARTZ Sa pag-alpas 72 Wrenzhie Arroyo sa pag-indak ng mga alon at patuloy na pag-apak, lalong humahapdi ang aking mga paa sa bawat bagsak. tinututulan ng mga nagtipong butil sa talampakan na lumisan palayo sa dalang kirot ng nakaraan upang tumungo sa bagong paroroonan. nilulan ko ang barko at naglayag, sinuong ang asul na kalawakan ng dagat habang dinarama ang haplos ng hangin na tila hinahatid ako sa alapaap. ang simoy ng dagat na nalanghap ko, ang nagpaamo sa mga agam-agam ng puso. buong akala ko, kapayapaan ay tuluyang natamo. inalog ng rumaragasang mga alon ang barko. pakaliwa, pakanan, saan na nga ba patungo? humuni ang hangin, bumubulong sa’king diwa, utak na pilit binabaha ng mga mapapait na alaala, inaanod pabalik kung saan ako nagsimula. hinuli lamang pala nito ang aking loob upang maging bulag sa dumating na bagyo. sinadyang maging mahinahon sa umpisa, saka ipapatikim ang nagpopoot na delubyo. sa paglipas ng nagdaang kulimlim, ang siyang pagkagat ng dilim. mistulan akong nakalutang sa kawalan. walang maaninag, walang direksyong mapuntahan. ngunit sa kalagitnaan ng karimlan at dalamhati banaag ang isang parola sa dakong silangan. umiikot at gumagabay sa mga naliligaw, sinisilaw ang mga anino ng pagdududa. nagpapaalala para sa panibagong bukas na nakaabang. at sa marahang pagsilip ni Apolaki, panibagong destinasyon ang natanaw. iniwan ang pait na dala ng kahapon kasabay ng aking tuluyang pagdaong. panibagong simula sa bagong nayon.
A translucent polygon Ara Janine Palecpec It flourishes, day by day, through the warmth of the sun and the snow of winter, emerging into pellucid divine fractals. And as it carves itself well with the fluctuating degrees to beauty, this that begin with molten blaze and glides along the streams will soon shine ahead and be espied. The path across the pinnacle was diamonds, enkindling the harmony of time, and the sway of usual brings forth asymmetry in transitions from diurnal to nocturnal. It is as delicate as silence unheard and glass unshattered against the ticking clock, where its fate was. 73
QUARTZ Stoic 74 Angienette Laurza
Sumpa ng Baguio Ara Janine Palecpec unang kampo nagsisimula na ang tarik na magdadala sa inaasam na dunong ikalawang kampo sasabay na sa liko at indayog ng kasama sa kalsadang kurbada ikatlong kampo ipikit nalang muna ang nalululang mata at dumilat kapag humahaplos na ang ginaw huling kampo sulitin ang pagal ng paa at daldal ng gabi ‘pagkat sa huli, babalik sa unang kampo hanggang maging patag muli. 75
QUARTZ Breaking free Paulyn Dianne Laude Caged within the walls, hindering the shafts I opened my eyes to the haze of midday In a battlefield of broken dreams That has become hollow and dreary My heart’s in dolor, weighing heavily I sift my thoughts—this too shall pass For it must not hurt to pause before escaping mundane As cascading rivers trickle too before raging again Mustered my strength to take a step I need to start getting prepped May I have the spirit to twist this tale of woe So this couple of strides will bring me growth The full moon have now beclouded I shall wait for the dawn to come soon Braving to get back up and realign life Cries of rejoice will follow in time 76
Escape of the Bound Jasmin Delos Reye7s7
QUARTZ Kapag pinagbigyan ang huling hiling Ara Janine Palecpec & Anina Jiliana Manuel Una, huwag magsalita. Pangalawa, huwag tumutol. Pangatlo, huwag umimik. Napasulyap ako sa aking kaliwa at nakita ang nakabubulag na mga poste ng ilaw na tumutulong upang labanan ang lamig at dilim ng paligid. Nagsimulang manginig ang aking mga labi, at sumunod na pumatak ang luha mula sa mga mata ko. Hindi naglaon, umagos ito sa aking namumulang pisngi. Ngunit mabilis ding kumawala papunta sa aking kamay na akala mo’y payapa. Napuno ng bagyo ang aking munting katawan, at nasa unahan ko lamang ang taong nagdulot nito. Habang hawak ng kaliwang kamay ng aking ina ang manibela ng kotse, sinusubukan niya akong abutin sa back seat ng kanyang kanang kamay. Palagi kaming naglalaro ng aking ina at madalas, siya ang taya. Gustuhin ko man na mawala ang lahat ng emosyong nakikita sa aking mukha sa isang segundong pagkisap upang patahanin ang sarili, maingat nalang akong tumahimik dahil wala naman sa mundo ang salamangka na magbibigay ng galak sa aking puso. At isa pa, hindi ito ang oras upang kaawaan ko ang aking sarili. Ngunit hindi ko mapigilan ang paglaki ng aking mga mata sa sitwasyong hindi pa pumapasok sa aking sentidong lunatiko kung mag-isip. Sa loob ng kotse na ito kung saan sarado ang mga bintana, isang mapusok na haplos ang pumupulupot sa aking leeg. Mama, bakit? Kasabay nito, biglang umawit ang aking isipan. Isang kantang pilit sumisiksik upang humele sa akin. Sana’y ‘di nagmaliw ang dati kong araw Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni nanay Sinusubukan kong kalimutan ang liriko nito para harapin ang panibagong tauhan sa aking buhay. Para na rin hindi ko kaawaan ang aking sarili. Ngunit hindi ko kayang talunin ang pamamalagi nito. Nais kong maulit ang awit ni inang mahal Awit ng pag-ibig habang ako’y nasa duyan 78
Walang kamalay-malay ang mga tao na nasa lansangan dahil ang buong akala nila ay tumatakbo lamang ang sasakyan sa kalsada upang makarating sa hantungan, o kaya naman sa isang magandang pasyalan. Tulad ng ibang mga magulang na nag-iisip ng paraan para maka-bonding ang kanilang mga anak. Sana. Binitawan niya ako sa oras na dumadami na ang mga sasakyan sa kalsada. Nahihibang na siya. Intensyon niyang saktan ako ngunit takot siyang may mangyaring masama sa aming dalawa. Sabik na sabik pa akong maranasan ang lockdown noong ipinatupad ito limang taon na ang lumipas. Kabaliktaran naman ang naging sentimyento ni mama. Ngunit sa mga oras, araw, linggo, at taon na ayaw ko nang bilangin pa, tanging alam ko lang na nagbago ang ihip ng hangin ng aking ina. Sa aking pagtulog na labis ang himbing Ang bantay ko’y tala, ang tanod ko’y bituin Hindi ko nakita ang kahihinatnan ng inasam kong matagal na pagkulong sa kwarto. Dahil bilang bata, iyon lang ang pangarap ko—ang makatakas sa nakakapagod na buhay bilang estudyante. Hindi ko naisip na mawawalan ng trabaho si mama sa balitang ito. Mailalarawan ko ang aking ina na dating tila kumikinang sa dami ng palamuti sa katawan, mula ulo hanggang paa. Deserve niya ‘yon. Ngunit hindi ko inakalang mas mahalaga pala ang mga ‘yon kaysa sa akin. Ngayon, isa na akong bilanggo sa pinangarap kong pagpapakasaya sa pansamantalang kalayaan. Paunti-unti, bumabalot sa aking buong katawan ang mabigat na kalungkutan mula sa isang sulyap sa kanyang anino. Lumalabo ang paningin, namamanhid ang kamay at paa, at tila handa na akong takasan ng sarili kong puso. Sa mga panahong minumulto ang aking ina ng mga alaala na nakakasuot siya ng mamahaling gamit noon, sa akin niya ibinubuhos ang lahat ng galit niya sa mundo. Kung maaari ko lang utusan ang mundo na tapusin na rito ang balakid namin ni mama sa pamamagitan ng kotse na ito. Tutal, delikado na rin naman ang ginagawang pag-mu- multitask ni mama, bakit hindi nalang matapos sa isang nakabibinging salpok? Sa piling ni nanay, langit ay buhay Puso kong may dusa sabik sa ugoy ng duyan Nais kong matulog sa dating duyan ko, inay Huli kong naaninag ang pula at bughaw na umaandap-andap at mga boses ng taong kumpulan. 79
QUARTZ Petrified 80 Aiser Levi Duque
scio me nihil scire Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes Existing since generations long ago, it would be no surprise if the number of mysteries are a myriad. It becomes reasonable how no scientist, no researcher, and certainly no mere human could be close towards a deliberate answer. Maxine accepts this reality regardless of all the accusations surrounding it. So, for someone her age, most of her intentions lie in challenging the professionals only printed in her academic books. No matter how many times those in her same age would criticize the logic she desperately holds, she is still persistent as the savvy girl that she is. Thus, determining all kinds of matters would be pointless. As such, consuming every legal notion she could administer, as much as she can, is her deliberate solution. At the current, based on what she can tell, it’s unfortunate that she is much closer to witnessing the disturbance from the other side of the room than she is to the answers she seeks. Costing one glance towards her younger sibling would force her to depart further from the texts she’s been doing her best to apprehend and waste the fruits of her labor. “Is this all necessary?” Riley interrupts, bringing his curiosity into discussion. No longer occupying the other side of their shared space, Maxine finds her brother fiddling with the assorted reading materials on her desk, threatening her with the reminder of deadlines, though shaking this off immediately. While this isn’t the first time her brother displayed his doubts, it really has never become of any use to her studies. “In what way should it not be?” Riley returns Maxine’s unwavering stare who had shifted her attention from the hardbound she was holding onto since the start of their meeting. He notes the raised eyebrow there is to her unclouded look. “For all the reasons there already are. I assume you must’ve heard all of them by this point,” offers Riley, not bothering to remove the growing grin in his features. “But it’s not like you would take any of them as an answer, no?” She huffs. He knows her too well. If only herself can be the same in terms of the mysteries that surface the unknown. There’s a pang of frustration when she remembers two more volumes she has yet to find in sequence of the first installment. This made her grip on the novel much more forceful than moments prior. “You can always quit whenever you want,” the voice of concern brings her back. No, she thinks this time. No. No. No. 81
QUARTZ Maxine wants to decline the offer of giving up her hard work because she is aware of her own titles. She is a quick strategist, team leader, creative visionary, an overachiever, an older sister, and more. Never does she think of herself becoming a quitter. Not when she has been doing this detriment for a huge fraction of her life. She doesn’t wish to say no but at the same time, she has to. It is a relentless torment on Riley’s side with much awareness of how his sister is stubborn this way. This scenario they have is no stranger to him. His mouth screws, instinctively attempts to find the right words that will make Maxine say something again. Anything, even if it’s one of her fancy words he doesn’t have a clue of will do. He never enjoyed this feeling. Maxine sits upright, catching the younger off guard. It’s a subtle thing but Riley catches his sister scooting right next to him right after. Maxine shares another gaze with her brother before looking down. “Quantum physics, dimensional rifts, automation electronics—they’re all buzzwords and all of the professionals use them,” her hands clasped one another. “Every once in a while, a new discovery is presented as the next big thing, only for it to be replaced by another.” “When I understood this, I wanted the world to be ready for who I would become with all of the knowledge I had and the knowledge I can absorb. From this, I received certificates, scholarships, and multiple achievements. As prideful as that sounds, my gratitude for each recognition exists.” Maxine fumbles for a moment to reach the items in her bag until she hands an envelope to her brother. Riley prepares himself before releasing a light gasp. While written in bright red, its contents can only be interpreted as marks in contrast to what Maxine usually receives. “Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t ready for the world, the actual one. The reality brings me back to the fact I may just be a burnout gifted child. With so many variables there still is to it, I could only ponder if I’ll ever be that prepared as I once hoped,” admits the older, more for the sake of her suffering than anything accountable—that much, she is sure of. There is no question. “Do you want an answer?” inquires Riley with genuine innocence. He now believes he’s lucky, very much so to have a strong sister like Maxine. She has always been one, he concludes. Maxine shakes her head and sinks into her seat. “Is that okay?” “There are enigmas in this world that no one is made to uncover,” he replies with a toothy grin, face so much brighter than the moment he was born, his sister notes. “A wise person told that to me once when she said she planned to learn it all and I think that first part is more relevant now than it ever was.” Riley softly punches his sister’s shoulder and laughs. “So we’ll never really know, but it’ll be okay.” Because we already know we’re alright. 82
The Matriarch’s au revoir Gabriel Dale Tejido It’s happening again. Unshackled thoughts flood the solitary room, reaching all four corners—every crevice blocked, every light dimmed. I saw it all, I heard every whisper of doubt that came to my clouded mind. With all this, I stopped writing the seemingly endless discourse. Placing my pen beside the countless pages I’ve written, I cast myself away from the dreary desk to lay solace on my bed. In the confines of darkness, I start to retract a deep memory of a conversation with my mother. I see the memory so clearly, it feels more like a reality. I let myself immerse in what once was our prairie. Letting it all sink in, the thought of seeing my mother made me weak. It happened at this moment, and I once again heard my mother’s sweet voice. “See, Elise? You just have to let it out sometimes.” “What do you mean, mom? Like you’re one to talk,” I said with a hint of satiric laughter. “Very funny, Elise,” she replied to me. “Take it like this. You’re a brimming vessel, unmoving and unfazed, ever in rest holding your totality,” she continued with a cheer in her eyes bestowed upon me. “But she stands unphased in her upright stance, its replete state remains in finesse and grace, and in failure, she ceases to tread.” My mind knew what she was trying to say, so my mouth bridged it. “Correct, and here you are on your path to her stability. But as life would plan, the attempts to perfection can only go so far, as in your own prowess comes innate function to feel, to think. Eventually like everyone else, she–“ “Overflows,” I say as my heart pangs. “Exactly, fodder sentiments lead to roaming a fathomless maze, vexingly leaves you in peril. Liberate yourself from the labyrinthine sanctuary, and content yourself in the confines of solace.” But letting it all out as if you’re throwing rocks in water is not a piece of cake. “Would you know anything, mom? In a once in a blue moon heart-to-heart tête-à-tête. Would one’s absence understand the struggles in the shadow of the sun? How would you know? To withstand the trials all by yourself, to resolve the extremities of loneliness, I’ve waited for–” 83
QUARTZ My mom took me into her arms at that moment, and all I could do was cry, she shouldered me with such care and warmth. She slipped something cold into my hands and before I was brought back to my reality, my vision slowly started getting darker, and I heard her ever lingering words. “I would know Elise, I would know,” she said on the verge of crying, her voice trembling. In an attempt to respond, I used all the energy I had left to let out a somber question. “How?” “Because I’m your mother.” I open my eyes in tears, carefully examining the grim room. I get a glimpse of something gleaming in the dark, a ray of hope, and its as if the dreaded atmosphere that loomed in my room was outshined by the quartz bracelet my mother left me—a remembrance of what once was, the only thing I can cling to for safety in this bottomless darkness that is doubt. I stopped wasting time on tears and did exactly what she told me as she gave me the fondest of adieus. “Let it out.” The world fell silent as if its inhabitants laid their eyes upon me in solitude. Among them I see my mother, like a light at the end of a tunnel, the cries of elation break free. Whatever void surrounded me then was replaced by a comforting blanket of assurance. Calmness, to have reached the end of my dilemma alongside my mother’s keepsake, my mother’s final embrace, the Matriarch’s au revoir. Only to have realized that my mother never left. I rose to my feet with great clarity, with a new disposition. To proceed, to stand straight, to move on, To let it out. On to a new day. 84
Afternoon Delight Nicole Infante 85
QUARTZ Erosion of Thyself 86 Aya Ahmad
Naked masquerade Bianca Jan Sibayan & Ara Janine Palecpec The sound of clinking crystal wine glasses and idle chatters dwell in the room as I take a glance at you. Your eyes are pinned with exquisiteness because of the mask you wear, but the facade you display still shudders. There and then, the cracks were sewn into its seams. Its crystals lose their luster piece by piece, while the glimmer in your eyes glistens under the spotlight, slowly trickling into the darkness of unconsciousness. “I love your outfit!” “I’m sure it’s vintage!” “Honestly, it’s cute and I love it.” No you don’t. None of you do. As I gaze through the vast rectangular glass window, the clouds cascade into a deep blue gradient. Chatters grew rampant, beating the echoes of the burnt-umber grandfather clock. In time with the chimes of the clock, you took a step farther from the spotlight you once owned. And there, I witnessed how you sprinted towards the egress. You let your feet take you away from the room full of masked elegance, and I followed you through as you left the porch. I saw you sauntering on the moist grass and basked under the ethereal moonlight like an innocent child as the train of thought mulls over melancholy. The nightfall pacifies your solitude, and the silence caresses you to calm. I watched you talk to the moon, and I suppose you had a great conversation. Thereafter, I noticed you rummaging through your light brown clutch bag, finding the fragments of your mask. That’s where you’ve hidden it. Reaching upon one fragment, you examined its sharp edges. You gently placed each of the fragments on your palm, aligning them carefully. I wonder if you were wishing that it’ll come back pristine. A rushing wind coursed through my hair strands to float mid-air. Suddenly, a blinding light flashed in the midst of the darkness that made both of us astounded and stepped away. We were more confounded when the fragments coalesced right before our eyes. Suddenly, we were jolted back into the darkness but noticed as I gently opened my eyes that we’re closer to each other. I spied a tear glistening upon staring at the windows of your soul, and mine also started to ricochet. Our feet are moving in sync as if they planned what was going to happen, bringing us closer and closer to each moment. As the proximity between us could no longer be measured, hues danced to the rhythm of our breath. A scintilla circled around us, performing wizardry. I hated you for the longest time. However, at the very same time, I love you. In the raging downpour, I chose to be the eye of the storm, providing calm in the midst of the chaos. Like a puzzle, the pieces of the mask binded together without any adhesives. But if one would take a closer look at the mask, the cracks are disguised as thin lines running beneath the crystals. I gathered my belongings, fixed my disheveled hair, and took a deep breath. Before, fear once coursed through my veins, pushing me to withdraw every single thing I planned to do. Now, dread recedes as the adrenaline escalates. It brought me back to the ingress, entering the ball bare-faced. 87
Ara Janine Palecpec Literary in-Charge make your plot twist. WRITERS’ PROFILE Marcea Alcala if your dreams don’t drown your heart with fear, they are too small. Wrenzhie Arroyo “Ang paruparo, gaano man kaliit, naniniwala akong kayang gumawa ng isang buhawi.”
Pia Heart Lambuson Paulyn Dianne Laude time gives clarity. Blaze your own trail. Anina Jiliana Manuel Aqeena “Qyns” Reyes 19 days, chapter 116, page 6: the passage of time is but a A million and 520 fleeting moment. Bianca Jan Sibayan Gabriel Dale Tejido Foraging through the woods, unearthing Speak of beauty where there reigns a hidden world beneath the corrupted the mundane. surface.
G R A P H I C A N D L AYO U T A R T I ST S Jan Anthony Murillo Angienette Laurza Layout Editor Nikki Alexis Antonio Juliana Ellice Polancos PHOTOGRAPHERS Elisha Jezreel Ang Jethro Dela Cerna Photo in-Charge Angienette Laurza Tricia Faye Velasco Nicole Infante
ARTISTS Denise Preclaro Aya Ahmad Art Editor Sean Jacob Altoveros Jannbeau Amadeus Cecilia Nazarine Bicol Rain Astrero Jasmin Delos Reyes Aiser Levi Duque Klaire Niña Llarena Rianne Nicole Ocampo Reanne Roguel Liam Nico Sullivan
La Estrella Verde The Official Senior High School Publication of De La Salle University – Dasmariñas EDITORIAL BOARD A.Y. 2021-2022 Franchez Cassandra Escander, Editor in Chief Marymar Caya, Associate Editor Ma. Ladeevie Tamonan, Managing Editor Guen Marie Sapinit, Copy Editor Ayeesha Kimberly Cellona, News Editor Guen Marie Sapinit, Sports Editor Ma. Ladeevie Tamonan, Features Editor Ara Janine Palecpec, In Charge, Literary Denise Preclaro, Art Editor Jan Anthony Murillo, Layout Editor Elisha Jezreel Ang, In Charge, Photo & Video Joanna Elaine Desiderio, Web Editor Marymar Caya, Radio Program Manager Dominic Benavente, Adviser La Estrella Verde has its editorial office at Room 241, High School Complex De La Salle University – Dasmariñas DBB-B City of Dasmariñas, Cavite 4115 Telephone: +63-2-7795180, +63-46-4811900 to 1930 local 3402 Email: [email protected] Facebook: www.facebook.com/DLSUDLaEstrellaVerde Twitter and Instagram: @LeviofLEV For the next issue of Morpheme, La Estrella Verde will be accepting submissions of photographs, graphics, artworks, and literary works (flash fictions, short stories, and poems) from the student body of DLSU-D Senior High School. Contributions should be sent as an attachment in an email to [email protected] with the author’s/artist’s/photgrapher’s full name and section. Anonymous contributors will not be recognized.
40th CATHOLIC MASS MEDIA AWARDS Morpheme: Through Changing Seasons Finalist: Best Literary Publication All contributions in this folio are originally produced and created by their respective owners. No part of this publication may be reprinted without written permission from the author and La Estrella Verde.
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