from the FB note Oda sa Panahon ng Pagpapasiya sa Pagkilos

I.

Tidy up the rubbish that remain in the chamber,

tally the memories that out of the pocket have swollen:

of a pass, candy wrap and a black coin;

squeeze the kerchief from which tears held on.

Compile the papers all tinted with soot,

determine the intent of each letter, each document,

take heed of the rules behind the journal,

fill out with ink the blank folio

Turn off the dripping faucet,

collect the broken plates and glasses,

and use to etch a name

them the crystals and cut pieces.

II.

Wipe away the particles that settled on the phone,

call on one’s blood brother/sister

to ask how he/she is, converse

of your most recent vision.

Fold the clothes sealed airtight,

and play a favorite song

from one’s recollection, repeat the chorus

at the rhythm of the faulty timepiece.

Watch the night come down as dawn breaks,

overlay the sun while the clouds peek,

whistle together with the breeze, wait for rain

in the rendezvous well kept.

III.

Listen to the radio broadcast not aired on,

strip off the screen of harmony from the television 

and scrutinize the true details in the periodical,

between the passages in the news.

Contemplate the images and faces;

note the same record

of the poet

and of the journalist:

various dates,

places, people,

figures and events

But one subject is forcibly being told.

_________________

I.

Take every chance you have

and devote each second of tomorrow,

to hasten time, the season

to make effort in ceasing apathy.

Forget the traces of the old nature,

never bear doubts anymore

which will debilitate

the root principles and view of dissidence.

Throw questions but also grasp that the answer

has long been implanted and forged

by the tilling and smithing

appendages and mitts.

II.

Destroy all spaces

a coward,

Do not leave a gap

for doubt.

Understand the pulse of sacrifice,

talk and feel every hateful heart,

listen to the resounding cry of the oppressed

that was never pressed.

Identify yourself in the eyes of a fellow,

caress the cracked skin and soil;

bury one’s own fear of death;

raise a dying people by dedicating one’s breath.

III.

Commence

to further the demands of the masses

because one with a skill alone

will remain moron

in genuine history.

Embrace the rhythm of the way

in the surge of thousand paces

halt the rhetoric of decision

and act.