Poetry&Stuffby
MARNE KILATES
MARNE
S
KRIPTS
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
Minerva p.4
7
The ferment had reached Nueva Caceres,
The colonizer’s citadel where robust faith had
Taken root, fortified the hearts of men against
The tantrums of the Pacific, the hiccups of Isarog.
The faith centered on the Lady from from far-off
Peña de Francia, who first revived a dog slaughtered
So its blood could be used to consecrate the wood
That would stand as posts to her first makeshift visita.
Word of her miracles spread across the region
First called Ibalon, and she had become Mother
And Nuestra Señora to conquistador and ilustrado,
And Ina to peon and inquilino, lowliest pilgrim,
Farm hand, city dweller, colegiala of Santa Isabel,
Denizens of the outpost that had taken the name
Of the walled city of Roman and Moor in Extremadura,
Where Katalingkasan still meant passing over,
As sagalas in their habitos lit their votive candles
To the Divino Rostro, and all the brave men,
Whether ilustrado or cuchero or lambanog devotee
Became voyadores and rowers of the slow-moving
Pagoda, the boat-borne shrine of the Ina reigning
On the shallows of the Rio de Naga, and in the rhythm
Of veins, muscle, and sinew, oared, thrusted
The outriggers and roared from their animist throats:
Viva la Virgen, Viva! At the Traslacion and back,
Their bare backs glistening with sweat mingled
With holy water of the river, the monsoons’ passion
And heady lambanog exploding in their breasts:
Viva la Virgen, Viva! Viva la Virgen, Viva!
8
The ferment seething, the history sketchy,
Mariano Perfecto was a native Nuvo Cacereño
Claimed by Panayeños as the Father of Hiligaynon
Literature. A negociante who happened to be in
Printing and publishing, he built the first press
In the Visayan island and thrived there. But
Words are the agents of insidious nationalism.
And Ina, too, was calling back. In fact it was
The Bishop who invited him home to put up
His printery for the diocese. (But by coincidence,
When the Diario de Manila had been shuttered,
A smaller secret Minerva had began spinning
In an inner district of the god-fearing town.)
And it wasn’t prayer novenas it churned out,
But pamphlets of a different devotion. Perfecto
Was siring a new literature—the Perdon for
Supplication, novenas for promises and vows.
But the K’s were intact, for Kyries as well as
For Katalingkasan, which had become a passing
Over into freedom. The Bikols paid dearly:
Quince Martires for the Traslacion of Inang Bayan.
Liberame Domine de morte aeterna, the dirge
Written by Marcelo Adonai echoed in the dusk,
In secret rites in private houses without blessing
Of curate or symbols of the purple catafalque.
Let us pray for Inocencio, Gabriel, Severino,
All men of the cloth. Manuel, Domingo, Ramon:
Father and two sons. Camilo, Tomas, Florendo.
Macario, Cornelio, Leon. And two Marianos.
Receive their soul, O Lord, in your bosom. Eleven
Executed at the Luneta. Like the Gomburza
Before them. And Pepe after them. And four either
Exiled or died of torture incarcerated. Young men
Of whom the oldest was 45, all serving the Inâ
Of Kabikolan. And now Inang Bayan, Amen.
