Ah, a photo of the stunning Imelda

And her children, everyone so fine,

And healthy, not a day of hunger

Have they known. Her husband,

That Ilocano, look, quite regal I’d say.

Smart, that man, brought a whole nation

To heel. Fourteen, fifteen years, no one

Squealed. A few college brats now and then.

Can’t be helped, one supposes.

A bit of bloodshed here and there,

Half-hearted rebellions quickly quelled. 
For twenty years, more or less,

The Ilocano’s word was law.

Everyone nodding yes–judge, laborer,

Beggar, philosopher, merchant, soldier–

Soldier above all. Complain, and

Vanish like smoke, simple, just like that,

Murdered, jailed, lost properties, positions.

The national debt ballooned, still

No jobs, wages shrunk,

The poor grew poorer, or died.
Imelda never stopped shopping–

Shoes, clothes, jewelry, paintings—

Because she can, of course, as though

The children selling sampaguita garlands

—Or their bodies—for food and shelter

In the streets of the capital did not exist.

Look at this photo now, how fine they look,

All her children round-cheeked, rosy smooth

Skin, perfection–these little godlings

In their seeming innocent pose.

Ay, but patience has its bounds,

Skim off the excess, the old folks would say,

When the time’s up. That day did come

For the Ilocano and his queen, skimmed off

By people power thirty-one years to the day. 
This photo now, look carefully, look steady,

For the spawns, these cherubic godlings,

Are crawling slowly back to grab the seat

Of governance they think is theirs by descent.
Ay, Filipinas, now gather your hungry

Homeless children, dispossessed

By generations of venality and greed,

Now tell them the proud sagas of your saints,

Don’t allow forgetfulness. Give them to drink

The bile of your memories, aye, also its sweet,

Feed their minds with lays of honor, and truth,

Its clarity. Their dreams haunt with the sheen

Of daggers. Lull them to sleep with the staccato

Of bullets crippling old bastions of deception.

One day when all is ready, Anger will rise

From the ground to call for blood.

Ay, Filipinas, on that day, pray the angel of Peace

Sits on its shoulders to show the way home.


October 24, 2017