It goes by three names. 

Two from our Spanish conquerors

And preachers, one from our own

Tongue. Misa de Gallo pays tribute 

To the rooster at dawn. The bleary 

Hour of cockcrow. The second makes it

The Mass of Gifts, Misa de Aguinaldo,

Reminding us that Christmas is for

Children. The Tagalog name is

Simbang Gabi. The mass in the dark,

Even if the church is fully lighted

And the trees and windows are hung 

With stars. Oh, so many of them,

Glowing, glittering, or blinking,

In countless shapes by art and fancy.

Those are the parol, the Christmas lantern, 

From the Spanish farol, the beacon for 

Guiding ships or souls. 

                               We thrilled 

At the chill in our tropical midnight. 

At the church grounds, we lined up 

For puto bumbong, the rice cake 

Steamed in bamboo tubes;

We eyed the bibingka rice pastry 

Cooked over glowing coals,

Covered with a lid with glowing coals.

We partook of them, put them away

With hot salabat, the ginger brew.

The small feast is all ours in words

And habit, to the carols sang 

By the Mabuhay Singers, “Pasko, Pasko,

Pasko na namang muli…”  until along

The way, before we reach home, 

The jukebox in the corner croons,

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…”

Or swoons, skipping a beat, “I did, I did,

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus!”

 

 

Marne Kilates

21 December 2021

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