| Journey: An Autobiography in Verse (1964-1995)begins
with a poem Mila D. Aguilar wrote when she was 15 years old.
When Franz Arcellana, the Philippines'
In fact, this book is not only an autobiography in verse;it is the history of a society in radical transition. Mila D. Aguilar, without realizing it at the time shewas writing her poetry, has chronicled the most significant turns of eventsin Philippine society in the last half of the twentieth century, as itaffected a Filipino woman of the petty bourgeoisie, in her prime. The collection is divided into four parts. The first partis entitled The Blue Period. The second part is entitledThe Red Period. The third part is entitled ThePurple Period. And the fourth part is entitled, simply, Period. We will feature a poem from each period. These poems willbe changed from time to time. Visit our site as often as you can to catchthese changes. If you can't wait to see all the 130+ poems in the collection,write to the University of the Philippines Press at E. de los Santos St,U.P. Diliman, Quezon City 1101, Philippines, or fax +(632) 928-2558 toplace your orders. Or go to Powerbooks, Solidaridad, Heritage, or any NationalBookstore outlet in the Philippines. In the US, Canada or nearby countries, write or call thePhilippine American Literary House at PO Box 5099, Santa Monica, CA 90409,USA, tel/fax number (310)392-7562. |
Stood he on a platform announced he his name his brilliance his magic Wrought he his music claiming affinity to God -- Puckered I my lips Burned I his effigy. Despised I him. Traitor! Of my appellation he had no mention!
How you’ve changed, Comrade, From the self-importance And garrulousness of the past. What the revolution could do to us, indeed; The little sacrifices Not seeing your children grow up The hundred and one long marches After the sudden shots in the dark The errors And yes, the collective pushing you on To change yourself. Now I see only the flickers of confidence In the heroic masses Coupled with a quiet warm-heartedness And a patience that was not there before. What the revolution could do for us, indeed; For otherwise we would already be in the dustbin Of history, together with the Baneros* and a few others Who finally turned traitor Because they could not part with their grand ideas Of themselves.
| *("Banero" is Noli Collantes, who was caught in 1972 and turned traitor without receiving even a pinch fromthe enemy, and who was punished for his crimes in 1974. The poem was written in 1977.) |
1. Love can be killed so easily, nick after painful nick. Marvelling at each drop of blood as it clusters round some blade of grass, adding colour to the greenery, you fail to see the paling of the victim, until the nicks become one great big wound surpassing healing. And then the love, it goes so easily. 2. Love’s not some substance you can manufacture. Nor a person that can be repaired. It flows, like blood in veins and arteries and capillaries intertwined. That is why a cut can make it flow out so and a thousand cuts can waste it. I speak not only of strange, personal loves, you hear, but the greater love of men and women for the things they hold most dear.
My people are a bastard lot I was born to redeem them. My people are lost in embers hot I am here to retrieve them. God bless the souls of those who survive the holocaust of my people’s greed. God forgive the bodies of those who connive for their moment’s needs To sell my land, My blessed land, My blest, divided Unredeemable beloved People. February 26, 1990
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