FORT SANTIAGO
To José Rizal
I
visited your cold, stone prison.
Bereft
of spirit,
Empty
of words.
Your
cell rang like footsteps
Inside
a bell. I could not
Imagine
you alive.
Supine,
you lay
Motionless,
a pigeon
Strangled
by the hand
Of
forces greater than
Your
idealism, stronger than
Overpowering
sentiment—
Your
love of country exceeding
Your
love of life, a pearl.
Yes,
you penned poems, essays,
Two
novels. You wrought
Drawings,
paintings, sculptures—
One
famous piece:
The Triumph of Science over Death.
Buildings,
cities, towns, streets
Today
carry your name.
Yet
you are not deathless.
You
are dead,
Slain
by migrant necessity
Born
of want, poverty
Pulling
grubs from the soil,
Nailing
down rusty iron sheets
To
fashion flimsy shelters
Soon
blown apart like paper
By
tornadoes, locusts
On
annual rampage.
But
wait—now I see you rise,
Arms
bound, marching off.
As
if on a stage, players assemble.
Your
back is to the firing line.
At
that moment of volley
I
see you transformed:
You
turn—shot as a traitor,
Dying
as a martyr.
Despair
spinning into hope.
Originally
published in Philippines Free Press
(December 31, 2011)
Also
published in Eastlit (December 1,
2014)
 |
| Bust of Jose Rizal, Kepaniwai Park, Hawaii |
December 30, 2013 is Rizal Day in the Philippines.
ReplyDeleteGonzalinho
Photo courtesy of Viriditas
ReplyDeletePhoto link:
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rizal_Iao_Valley_Maui_Hawaii_1.jpg
Gonzalinho
The “pearl” is intended to be a twofold Biblical allusion.
ReplyDeleteLove for life did not deter them from death.—Revelation 12:11
Rizal is not a saint but a martyr, a martyr of justice. He died for freedom from political oppression, for political freedom. His love for life did not deter him from a martyr's death.
“Do not throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot, and turn and tear you to pieces.”—Matthew 7:6
Rizal was indeed torn to pieces by the Spanish colonial government. His love for life—his love for his country included, his many loves—were his pearls.
Gonzalinho
Version with stanza 5 edited:
ReplyDeleteFORT SANTIAGO
To José Rizal
I visited your cold, stone prison.
Bereft of spirit,
Empty of words.
Your cell rang like footsteps
Inside a bell. I could not
Imagine you alive.
Supine, you lay
Motionless, a pigeon
Strangled by the hand
Of forces greater than
Your idealism, stronger than
Overpowering sentiment—
Your love of country exceeding
Your love of life, a pearl.
Yes, you penned poems, essays,
Two novels. You wrought
Drawings, paintings, sculptures—
At least one famous piece:
The Triumph of Science over Death.
Buildings, cities, towns, streets
Today carry your name.
Yet you are not deathless.
You are dead,
Slain by migrant necessity
Born of want, poverty
Pulling grubs from the soil,
Nailing down rusty iron sheets
To fashion flimsy shelters
Soon blown apart like paper
By tornadoes, locusts
On annual rampage.
But wait—now I see you rise,
Arms bound, marching off.
As if on a stage, players assemble.
Your back is to the firing line.
At that moment of volley
I see you transformed:
You turn—shot as a traitor,
Dying as a martyr.
Despair spinning into hope.
Gonzalinho