Rebels
I am a
rebel Papa
Not your kind—
Silent and
suffering
But the
people’s kind—
Raging and
angry.
They say
how different from you
I have
become.
Don’t
they know
How I try
to follow your path?
Unspeaking
but firm you were
Against
theft
You refused
to take
What others
think you ought.
What you
have not earned
Was not
brought home to us—
Your
children.
Your
misunderstood silence
Was a
cracking slap
On the face
of the thieves
That surrounded
us.
I rage
against the pillage
Now that it
is my time.
But I have
never been silent
Unlike you.
I talk, I
march, and I talk some more
I
misunderstand silence.
I applaud
those who bear arms
Against our
mutual enemies.
You told me
once
“’We’ can not
win.”
But you were
wrong.
You did.
And as your
sunken eyes look westward
Your heart
beats unrepentant
Of the
poverty you earned.
Am I wrong
to hope
We, the
people, may soon win?
Victory
earned not in silence
But with a
cry of rage.
There are
many kinds of rebels Papa.
We are two
of them.
-- 29 December 2005
6:03 pm
Quezon City












































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