Last night I bid my friend a last farewell.
\nFlowers and candles have softened his face now,
\nMangled by a thousand bullets beyond belief.
\nHis father in black I greet\u00a0with a sad hello.
\nWear and tear have softened his face now,
\nListening to a hundred voices sing in grief.<\/p>\n
How does one console a grieving father?<\/p>\n
We share with him stories about the son of nimble feet,
\nFording\u00a0rivers\u00a0with a band of warrior poets,
\nRousing village after village in\u00a0a dozen tongues.
\nThe son like Eman lived among the nameless ones
\nIn the ever-moving eye of the mountain storm.
\nThe father says, “I would have joined them too if I were young.”<\/p>\n
How does one console a grieving mother?<\/p>\n
We send her an orchid from the guerrilla zone.
\nHidden in its highland perch, a smile unfolds
\nIn petals of\u00a0gentle reds and fiery purples.
\nMother understands. As\u00a0her child rejoins the earth
\nTo blend with forest greens and browns, we behold:
\nA thousand sprouts take their place in great perennial circles.<\/p>\n
How does one console a grieving people?<\/p>\n
A tapestry of poems like these we weave for fallen fighters In honor of the Lacub martyrs
\nAnd wipe our tears. Vows of struggle we refresh\u00a0before their biers.
\nThe peal of village gongs are heard across the land of raging rivers.
\nThey spread the word: the fire trees are in bloom to dispel the grief.
\nWith care we prepare Kalinga coffee and\u00a0diket<\/em> rice, for at dawn,
\nThe trails widen tenfold for our finest sons and daughters.<\/p>\n
\nOctober 6, 2014<\/p>\n