Showing posts with label MCVoices. Show all posts

Literary (Submission): Kung Ang Tinig ko ay Tinig Niyo Rin




Nabibingi na ako,
Sa katahimikan.
Kung saan tayo ay mistulang mga pipi
O bulag
Mga walang malay sa kapaligiran,
O walang balak itong aksyunan,
Tila pinagkaitan ng pakialam.

Nabibingi na ako,
Sa mga bulong
Ng aking mga bayani,
Ng aking mga ninuno.
“Ito ba? Ito ba ang bayan kong pinag-alayan ng aking buhay?
Ng aking mga pighati, lungkot, at pagdurusa?”
Di niyo ba naririnig?
Itong mga bulong na nag-uudyok ng pagsasawa?

Nabibingi na ako
Sa mga sigaw!
Sa hiyaw ng aking damdamin!
Sa silakbo ng takot, galit, hinanakit,
Hapis, paghihirap, at kawalang pag-asa!
Kung ang tinig ko ay tinig niyo rin,
Maaari sana tayong dinggin ng Panginoon
Na siguradong nakasalumbaba na tayong pinapanood.

Literary (Submission); UP Fight!




“LET’S GO UP!”
Hiyaw ng marami
Simula na ng aming pagsabak
Sa laban ng puso at utak

“One good receive!”
Malakas kong isinigaw
Mabilis ang pagdating at paglakbay ng bola
Ito ang magdidikta kung kami’y pupuntos ba?

“Mine!”
Ang katagang sabay naming ibinulyaw
Mga utak ay tila nagkandaligaw-ligaw
Di na malaman kung sino ang gagalaw

Tumama, dumaplis, at tumalsik ang bola
“Habol!” sigaw ng isa kong kasama
Kumaripas ako ng takbo
At ibinigay ang buong makakaya ko

“Buhay!”
Malakas kong ihiniyaw
Naitaas ko ang bolang halos di na matanaw
May tiyansa pa, may pag-asa pa, kami’y hindi bibitaw

“Paluin niyo!”
Mula sa malayo ay nasilayan ko
Ang paglundag at pagyabag ng mga paa
Heto na, sa wakas, kami’y pupuntos na

“Akin na!”
Buong pusong sigaw ng aking kasama
Malakas niyang hinampas ang bolang mataas
At ang ugong nito’y dinig hanggang labas

Sandaling katahimikan ang bumalot sa kapaligiran
Ngunit kaagad itong sinundan ng tilian at hiyawan
Aming narinig ang sandamakmak na “Nice one!”
“LET’S GO UP!” Para sa ’yo, kami’y lalaban

Literary (Submission): The Voice In My Head




One gentle, uneventful night, an eve whose air was pleasant, cool,
I sat inside my room alright, unguarded just like any fool,
I was, engrossed, I think, in work, perhaps in other worlds immersed,
Unaware was I in darkness lurked, something by the light accursed,
It spoke to me, 'I know you well, I know what goes on in your head.'
It had my voice, that I could tell, this thing that seemed to presage dread
But of course, not being free, I did not wish to heed the voice,
'I have my work, away with ye,' I told the creature with its ploys

But it did not stop, the whisperer, for on my nape it had its place,
'But I am you as you ponder,' it spoke with charm and grace,
'I know of all the things you think and of all the things you fear,’
Then its voice suddenly rising, ‘For example—'

'Shut up,' I said to the whisperer

‘—that you’ll die alone. Look at your—’

‘Shut up,’ again, I say.

‘—friendships all going to flames. There’s no-one
to fall back on. Why not jump the gun—’

‘Shut up, shut up,’ I repeat.

‘—and just give up? You can barely write now,
And each word you place are no more endowed—'

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up.’

‘—with beauty or feelings or deep meaning.
You’ve burned out, you’ve reached your peak, you’re falling.
You’re held up by a foundation of reputation, but you’re nothing.’

I close my eyes and cover my ears
But the voice goes on and on

Inside my head
‘Or maybe I was wrong, and you won’t die alone,
I’ll be with you whatever happens, you’ll never be alone’

LIterary: Unspoken




Why do I say what I say?
Strings of words to form a meaning
With a meaning through emotion
And emotion through speech
Why can’t we say, what we really want to say

Some things are meant to be dealt with through speech
But why can’t we talk?
Why talk through screens, not speech?
The words that I say could never reach you
Have my words lost their meaning? Or have I lost my feelings?

Was it something I said?
I say through my mind with feeling and thought
With the thought to confront you
When the words could come out
But my voice wouldn’t let me

Unspoken are the words that need to be said
With my heart on the line, with thought in my words
I’ll say to you what I should’ve said before
Can we talk?
Can we finally speak without screens to look down on?

Will I finally say what I wanted to say?
Will my strings of words ever form a meaning?
With a meaning through emotion
That emotion, I’ll keep
When I see myself as ready

“Unspoken,” we’ll no longer be.

Literary: Aking Idolo




Doon narinig ang iyong tinig,
Nabighani sa bawat notang inawit,
Sa lahat ng salitang umalo sa akin,
Hiniling na ang sining na aking naulinig ay ‘wag nang magwakas.

Sumikip ang aking dibdib sa himig ng iyong tinig,
Ipinagdasal na sana’y maaari kong ikulong sa isang baul at angkinin; paniguradong habang buhay ko itong pakikinggan.

Ngunit alam kong ito’y isang sakim na kahilingan,
Dahil batid kong ang iyong tinig ay isang sining na nilikha upang marating ang sangkatauhan.

At ang sakim na pag-aasam nito para sa aking sarili ay parang pagnanakaw ng mga bituin sa gabing madilim.
Kunin ang kinang at karimlan ang tanging matitira.
Ang parehong di pagsilay ay kawalan ng saysay ng paglikha.

Kaya’t aking ipinagmamakaawang ika’y kuminang muli katulad ng mga bituin sa langit ng gabi, at nang masaksihan ng buong sangkatauhan ang biyayang sa ‘yo’y nagpapaningning upang kanilang matagpuan din ang pagmamahal na sa iyong tinig ay aking nadama.

Literary: Deaf to the World




The world keeps overwhelming me,
With all these people everywhere.
They keep loudly talking and telling
And yelling and shouting and shrieking.

There are rare times they listen,
But they mostly just talk and talk –
their days and their dead end jobs,
Their dreams and their unreachable wants.

They keep using their own voices
Like they don’t hear themselves.
They use it often, as frequently as much
As they breathe their air into their lungs.

I cover my ears, and I try to hide.
I have decided, yes, only now.
I choose not to listen, listen to no one.
I’d rather hear your voice, and yours alone.

Literary: Rinig kita




Malamig ang simoy ng hangin. Kasinlamig lang ng hangin ang panahon sa Baguio noong binisita namin ang lola ko para sa Pasko. Kasama kong pumunta ang pamilya ko at ang pamilya ni Sam. Magkaibigan kasi ang mga tatay namin, kaya halos lahat ng lakad namin, kasama sila.

Halos parang magkapatid na kami ni Sam. Laging magkapareho ang ginagawa namin, kung di man magkasama. Pag nagbabasketbol siya, sinasamahan kong maglaro. Pag gusto kong manood ng mga pelikula ni Vice, sinasamahan niya ako kahit naghihilik lang naman siya sa sinehan. Pinag-aralan niya ring mag-braid para lang matalian niya ako ng buhok.

Noong pumunta kami sa bahay ng lola ko, pagkapasok pa lang ay binigyan na niya kaming dalawa ng malaking yakap. Madalang kasi namin siyang binibisita sa Baguio; ang huling punta ko rito ay baka noong mga pitong taong gulang pa lang ako.

‘Yon ang pinakapaborito kong alaala sa kaniya. Iyon ang huling pagsasama namin bago kami nag-college. Matapos ang higit sa sampung taon, ngayon ko lang siya ulit makikita.

Sa kabaong niya.

Ngayon, hindi ko na alam. Hindi pa rin bumabaon sa isip ko na wala na siya. Na nawalan ako ng kalahati. Wala nang magbe-braid ng buhok ko. Wala nang pipilit sa aking magbasketbol kahit sobrang mainit.

Wala na siya.

Hindi ako lumuha. Hindi ko kayang lumuha. Hindi ko alam kung bakit hindi ako lumuluha. Parang wala akong nararamdaman. Parang hindi ito nangyari. Pero nandiyan ang kabaong niya, unti-unting nilulubog sa lupa.

Sabi niya sa akin dati noong bata kami, “Kahit ano’ng mawala sa ‘yo, huwag kang umiyak. Kasi kahit kailanman, meron ka pang ibang pinahahalagahan.”

Hindi ko naman aakalain na siya ‘yung mawawala sa ’kin.

Nagpakawala ako ng mahinang buntonghininga. May gusto pa sana akong sabihin sa kaniya. Hindi ko nasabi kahit kailan. Kahit bilang kapamilya, hindi ko ito nasabi. Matagal ko nang kinikimkim ang mga salitang ito. Alam kong huli na ang lahat, pero…

“Mahal kita, Sam.”

Kahit mahina lang ang boses ko, sana’y marinig mo pa rin, Sam.

Mahal kita, Sam. Mahal na mahal kita sa simula pa lang.

Kahit kailan man, hindi kita narinig magsalita, mahal na mahal pa rin kita.

Itinaas ko ang ulo ko at pumikit ako. Wala na akong iniisip kundi ang hinga ko at ang lamig ng simoy ng hangin.

Hindi pa rin ako makaiyak.

Pagkatapos ng ilang segundo, may tumapik sa aking balikat. Namulat ako kaagad, at nagulat ako na nandoon pala ang nanay ni Sam. Tiningnan niya lang ako nang may malumanay na ngiti. Bumalik ako sa pagpikit ng aking mga mata.

Mahina niyang sinabi, “Ella, may gustong sabihin si Sam.”

Nanlaki ang mata ko at tinitigan ko siya. “Ano’ng sabi n’yo, Tita?”

Wala siyang isinagot, sa halip, naglabas siya ng isang pirasong papel. Tahimik niyang ibinigay sa akin ang papel.

“Basahin mo,” aniya.

Nagtaka ako sa iniabot niya. Pagkatapos ay lumayo na ang nanay ni Sam.

Pagkabukas ko ng papel ay may sulat sa loob. Pagkabasa ko ng unang mga linya, mas humigpit ang hawak ko sa papel.

“Dear Ella,”

May sulat ka para sa ‘kin, Sam?

Binasa ko ang liham niya, bawat salita, isinasapuso ko.


Dear Ella,

Kumusta ka naman? Sana okay naman ang pakiramdam mo. Alam mo naman na hindi ako magaling sa pagsasalita, kaya didiretso na ako sa gusto kong sabihin.

Sorry.

Sorry hindi kita nahintay. Gusto ko talaga sanang hintayin ka bago ako operahan. Alam mo naman na yata kung ano’ng nangyari pagkatapos ng opera ko, di ba?

Ginusto ko talaga ito para sa sarili ko, kaya huwag kang mag-alala. Kahit kailanman, hindi ko naisip na kawawa ako dahil pipi ako, gusto ko pa ring marinig mo ako.

Matagal na tayong hindi nagkikita, pero hanggang ngayon, sa mga huli kong araw, ikaw pa rin ang iniisip ko. Malamig dito, Ella. Mas malamig pa kaysa sa Baguio.

Sana nandito ka ngayon. Pero kahit na wala ka, hindi pa rin ako iiyak. Nasa akin pa rin lahat ng alaala natin. Kung nasaan ka man ngayon, sorry kung bigla akong papasok ulit sa buhay mo sa huli kong oras.

Hindi ko nasabi dati bago mag-graduate kasi naduwag ako. Kahit naman ngayon, duwag pa rin ako, e, haha. Pero ito na, sasabihin ko na.

Ella… mahal kita. Hindi lang bilang kaibigan. Mahal na mahal kita mula noong bata pa tayo. Hindi ako nakakuha ng lakas ng loob para sabihin sa ’yo dahil takot ako na ma-reject. Baka magbingi-bingihan ka na naman sa ‘kin. Gusto ko lang talaga marinig mo ako:

Mahal kita, Ella.

Maraming damdamin ang umiikot sa puso ko. Lahat ng nararamdaman ko naghalo-halo na.

Galit? Lungkot? Saya?

Hindi ko napansin na basa na ang pisngi ko sa luha. Hinawakan ko ang liham niya malapit sa dibdib ko. Bawat hinga ko, paulit-ulit lang ako, “Rinig kita, Sam... Rinig na rinig kita...”

Mahal na mahal din kita, Sam. Rinig na rin kita.

Sana lang naririnig mo rin ako.

Literary: Oh Death, Heed Us




Oh death let not your voice prevail
No matter how desperate our people wail
Use not, dear death, your alluring cadence
Never will we surrender to you in obeisance
In falsetto you attest your own resplendence
But fool us not, we’re ware of your fiendish bargains
Now solace come forth, thee we hail
Oh death we won't let your voice prevail!

Literary: Conscience Corrupted




As he put the gray duffle bag on the poker table, he felt as if he won a billion-dollar jackpot from the lottery. With a sparkle in his vermillion eyes, a sinister grin in his crooked face, and a furrow in his thick eyebrows, he cackled and sat on the throne-like armchair with self-satisfaction.

He schemed and contemplated about his deal with this innocent, bizarre-looking Swiss lad the day ago. He was wondering if he succeeded in luring the boy into his unescapable trap and in giving him the other duffle bag with the counterfeited pennies, dimes, and dollars inside.

"You're an agent for Escondido - ah, I mean, a spy, right? You see, Team Oculta is planning to infiltrate the Radio Tower - it's like this, my minions will be dressing up as if they're rushing to their offices, with their replicated entry cards, and they're going to start shooting at the windows to startle all the workers, and when those imbeciles are fazed enough, they'll be held captives - they'll be set free only if they tell us the secrets and plans of the government. But they've smartened up and seem to be aware of our plans - they've tightened up their security, set up alarms all over the place, and even blacklisted us from the Radio Tower!"

Seeing the frustration, exasperation, and indignation of Giovanno's voice, the lad calmly asked what he wanted him to do.

"I want you to stop working for Escondido. Your company is close to being smithereens - your stocks are a wee close to bein' bankrupt, you're being squashed by your co-workers all the time, you don't feel like going to work anymore... why don't you work for Team Oculta instead? You're the numero uno of my list - you're shrewd enough to twist the truth, you're determined to get whatever you want, you have a knack for confiding secrets to the right people and making stories that are untrue yet believable for ordinary people, uh, those pathetic simpletons. You could get whatever you want - a hefty thousand bucks for every hour you work, a villa where we can improve on your spying and aiming skills, and the revenge you have plotted against your parents for forsaking you..."

The lad felt so pressured by burly Giovanno's words. Yes, he was only given a paltry half dollar for every secret he would tell, he has been living in shanties for practically his whole existence, and he was abandoned by his parents since he was just a good-for-nothing boy, but the inner voices in his head made him mute and chary to deny the offer Giovanno was proposing.

"Wait, stop. You're being blinded by your impulses, whims, anger, thirst for... please, just don't do this."

"Instead of listening to him and becoming allies with him, why don't ya' just leave him alone, betray him, and find someone else... he might even make your life worse."

"He might be right about your dark, do-not-ever-want-to-be-known-by-others past, but he's mistaken by what you really do at Escondido. There you're unraveling the mysteries to free the people and help them, here you'll be doing the same thing but on the wrong way."

And another voice came, as curt as the bomb-like voice of his ungrateful parents, "He's corrupting your conscience. Tell him that you don’t like it!"

His impulses, whims, anger, thirst for revenge eventually blinded him. He eventually thought that being allies with him would stop his getting-worse-per-day life. He eventually realized unravelling mysteries to control the people and oppress them was better. He eventually accepted the fact that his conscience was being corrupted, and he told himself he liked it.

So he eventually became in cahoots with him and got the duffle bag containing the money enough to feed himself for the next twenty years, enough to build a mansion big enough to outshine that of his parents', and enough to buy him the gear and professional apparel to convince everyone he is a spy.

Giovanno was so amused by the gullible attitude of that young man that he was unaware of the clicking sound of shoes on the hallway, the zip of the gray duffle bag he gave a day ago, and the flurry of leaf-like papers drifting freely in the air.

A boss-like figure was walking with heavy footsteps outside. He was now wearing a black-striped fedora, opaque aviators, and an elegant black suit with a tie neatly ironed; he held a business case with him and wore a smile so nondescript that whoever would see him would not know who he was. But he had that same deceived look of the boy whom Giovanno talked to the day ago – the same vengeful eyes of the boy disinherited by his ancestors, and the same frustration of the kid whose dreams were not fulfilled just because of extreme poverty.

A bullet was shot with Giovanno's name on it. The figure then gave a loud cry and wept so loudly that the people outside the room could even hear his voice. He retrieved the other gray duffle bag from the poker table, threw it near the exit of the room, and ran along the labyrinthine hallway as if he was a Team Oculta grunt trying to escape from the heinous crime he committed. For his conscience was corrupted, and he realized it was too late to do anything to cleanse it.

Literary: Hala Sige, Sumigaw Ka!





Sawang-sawa ka na, di ba?
Sa pagiging tahimik sa gitna ng kaba
Ang nais mo’y kumawala
Sa lipunan kung saan ika’y tinatawag na kakaiba

“Tingnan mo ‘yon, o! Mag-isa na naman, loner.”
“Huwag kang lumapit diyan, weirdo ‘yan.”
Palagi mong naririnig na sinasabi ng ilan
Titingin ka sa kanila habang ika’y iniiwan
Pagkatapos ay tatawanan ka na naman

Nakakapagod, hindi ba?
‘Yung araw-araw na maling pagtrato sa ‘yo ng iba
Pagkatapos ng pag-uukol mo sa kanila ng pansin
Magpapakabulag sila sa iyong halaga

Ngunit ano’ng magagawa mo?
Siguro’y iniisip mo na wala.

Patuloy ka pa ring lumalaban
Di dahil sa gusto mo, kung di dahil kailangan
At may mga pagkakataon pa nga na minsan
Ikaw ay lubhang nag-aalinlangan

Kung minsan nama’y nasa punto
Na ang nais mo na lang ay sumuko
Uupo sa sulok, iiyak at sabay sabi ng,
“Ayaw ko na, talo na ‘ko.”

O di kaya nama’y nais maging malaya
Sa buhay na halos kontrolado na ng iba
Maging mga dapat at di dapat mong gawin, idinidikta nila
Kaya’t hala, sige, sumigaw ka!

Ngunit diyan ka nagkakamali

Matapos ang pagwawala, darating ang lungkot
Ang mundo mo’y iikot sa isang bangungot
Patuloy na dadaloy sa ’yo ang hinagpis
At ang buhay mo’y magiging purong poot

Ngunit ‘wag kang mag-alala

Sa mga panahon na marami ang iniiwasang makausap ka
At ang pagkamahiyain mo’y hindi mawala-wala,
Marahil may nakaranas nang maupo sa iyong silya
At ang iyong nararanasan ay hindi na naiiba

Sa katunayan,

Di ka nag-iisa sa labang ito,
Kasama ka sa nag-iisang libo-libo
Sapagkat ang ganitong pag-iisa,
Maaari nang tawaging epidemya

Ano ang maaari mong magawa?

Ika’y mas maging bukas sa pananalita
Hayaan mong lumapit sa ’yo ang may makikinig na tainga
Iwasan mo ang pambabastos sa kapwa
Nang sa gayo’y walang lalayo at hahanapin ka

Ilabas mo ang kabaitan sa bawat sandali
Hanggang sa masabi mo sa iyong sarili,
“’Uy! Hindi ako nag-iisa ngayong araw,
Marami naman pala ang may katulad kong sigaw.”

Literary: Jack-in-the-Box




Sitting, patient, calm, secure
Inside the box of this darkness so pure
Empty, cramped, tight, and so black
Inside the box, I am here, I am Jack

If I’m wound up, I want to get out
Springing and spinning and moving about
Don’t turn the crank if you don’t like surprises
In my dear box, Jack, myself, comes and rises

Loud, explosive, cheering, and screeching
Beyond this small box, I am bawling and screaming
Cackling, bouncing, whooping, and howling
Outside the box, I am Jack, who is squalling

Silence, leaps, roars, and then fear
The quietest ones are the scariest, dear
Deafening, startling, finally, truth
Jack-in-the-box, a toy for the youth

Literary: Salamat




“Kapag kailangan mo ng kausap nandito lang ako, ha!”
Ang mga salitang tumanglaw sa ’king madilim na buhay
Mga salitang nag-ahon sa ’kin mula sa kinasadlakang hukay
Salamat at may nagsabi sa akin nito bago pa mahuli ang lahat

Pagsasalamat pa lang ang aking kayang maibigay sa ngayon
Sa susunod ay magkikita pa naman tayo tuwing hapon
At doon ay may ibibigay akong importanteng salita sa iyo
Na dapat hindi mawala hanggang sa katapusan ng mundo

Sa mga kaibigan kong naglaan ng boses para ako’y sumaya
Salamat dahil kayo ang nagbibigay ng tuwa at sigla sa akin tuwina
Sa mga gurong nagtulak sa ’kin na magsipag para ako’y matuto
Salamat po dahil mukhang ako'y papasa naman sa semestreng ito

Sa aking mga teammate na nagpapasaya sa ’kin tuwing pagsasanay
Salamat dahil kayo’y nagbahagi ng ngiti kapag masama ang araw
Sa pamilya kong minamahal kahit kinaiinisan ko kayo
Salamat dahil iniintindi niyo ako kahit kayo ang magulo

At sa aking sinta na itinatangi ko
Salamat sa pinakamasasayang mga araw na magkasama tayo
Sa panahong nawawala na ako sa aking sarili
Ikaw ang nagsisilbing tala sa karimlan ng gabi

Pero lahat ng ito’y nasa nakaraan na
Sana ikaw ay maligaya sa piling ng iba
Dahil alam ko na mas magiging masaya ka sa kanila
Kumpara sa ’kin na puro pag-iyak lang ang tanging dala

Salamat, salamat sa inyo kahit ito pa lamang ang maibibigay ko sa ngayon
Patawad sa mga naidulot kong pait sa ating matatamis na kahapon
Mga kaibigan man o dating kasintahan na aking nakasama
Nais ko sanang maibalik ang mga nasira nating ligaya

Literary: She




Mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the person I’m seeing
With tears running down like rainfall
She blames herself and continues crying

My heart is breaking as I hear her saying
“I am a disaster no one will ever love me,”
But she forgot to listen to the voice of her soul
She was messing up and talking foul

She then flipped the mirror and I saw myself
Smiling like everything is fine
She was too focused on everybody else and forgot herself
And she lost her shine

Behind her face filled with happiness everyday
Is a girl who’s always drowning
Drowning with the scars of yesterday
But her happy self will be back after crying

She believes that a storm with sunshine becomes a rainbow
She learned how to go with the flow
She was dying inside but she has a reason to not stay low
And that reason is her afterglow

Literary: How Daft




I was told I was too quiet, too different.



So I talked louder,

Laughed more,

Made sure to be heard.



Then suddenly I was too loud.

Too much.



“Where’s your poise?”

“You’re a lady, act like one.”



So I tried to be soft, returned to my roots.

Made myself gentler, kept my mouth shut.



But still, they weren’t satisfied.

“Impressionable”, they said of me.



So I closed down.

Turned hard like stone.

Colder than ice.

Eyes ever distant,

But ears listening all the while.



Always too much or too little,

In their eyes and in their ears



So I tried to take control

Of who I was and who I’d be

Of how I’d look and how I’d speak



Now I understand

how rather daft it was

Silly, even

To muffle my own voice

Just to listen to their hushed murmurs

And unsure whispers.

Literary: A Grin From Ear to Ear




How would my life be if I was still able to hear? Probably better, I don't know. But what I do know, right now, is that I'm not happy.

When I was 15, I got caught in an accident. The good news was I wasn't killed, but the bad news was I incurred a condition. I have what is called sensorineural hearing loss, or in short, deafness from the concussion I contracted. The doctor said it was severe and could last a lifetime. We tried every treatment we could afford, but my ability was never really restored.

It's been a year since the incident and my life has never been the same. As much as the sounds have left me, so has my social life. I shut out everyone who said, “Everything will be alright.”

No, everything will not be “alright!” What do you expect? I can just go back to doing things as usual? You must be stupid to think that’s comforting.

I also abstained from school activities like the debate team. I couldn’t stand the faces of those pretentious jerks. They say they’re concerned but honestly, they’re just thinking of themselves. I’ve been discriminated against ever since I got this stupid impairment. One time, a classmate mocked me behind my back and I got into a fight with him when I noticed. We both got counseled that day and I never really talked to him ever since.

Another year passed, and things started to calm down in senior high. Either the people have stopped talking about me or I just don’t know about it anymore.

Anyway, I got used to the adjustments that I needed to do for my condition. I had an interpreter for my classes while I studied how to lip read and do sign language.

To be completely honest, I've been missing my old lifestyle. It was way easier then when I didn't have to do everything differently. I miss listening to music when I do my homework. I miss hearing different kinds of sounds when I stroll around a place. I miss hearing my voice.

Lately, I've been noticing this girl in my class when I scan the room from time to time. She's completely opposite from me.

She's famous with boys and girls alike, respected by the teachers, and is in the top of the hierarchy. She excels in all our subjects, she’s very athletic, artistic, and she’s the daughter of a rich businessman. Her mere presence annoys me. I don't need to hear her to feel that.

Deep inside though, it makes me envious to think of how pitiful I am compared to her. How come she gets to enjoy her life? She'd never understand how things are like in mine.

One day, she approached me at my desk and sat neatly on the chair next to mine. When I looked back, she just flashed me that irritating bright smile of hers – the one with dimples. I tried to ignore her, but she just wouldn't leave.

I tried to hide my face under my crossed arms on my desk to pretend like I was sleeping, but she kept poking my shoulder.

At some point, I gave in and glared at her. She said to me, in sign language, “It’s been a while since classes have started. I've noticed you haven't been interacting with anyone for a long time now. Nice to meet you, I'm Lyra.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. With a reluctant frown, I signed back, “Ethan. Why do you know sign language?”

She went on again and flashed me that bright smile. “My friends told me that you were deaf, so I planned on learning it. To be honest, I just want to be friends with you.”

“What made you think I'd be friends with you?”

She tapped her index finger on her lower lip, thinking deeply. “I don't know really. I just wanted to take my chances.”

She seemed really sketchy at first, but I let her be. It'd be way worse for me if I were to fight even the most popular person in the class.
Since then, she has kept on approaching me for school activities or for some help when assisting the teachers. Every lunch period, she’d disturb my peace and sit across me, offering some food. I didn't know what her ulterior motive was but when I asked her, she just replied with her energetic gestures, “I told you, I just really want to be friends.”

Some time passed, and I got used to her antics. I gave in and started to accept her food offerings, to which, she smiled. I also pointed to the answers on her textbook from time to time when she was doing our homework in English. Turns out she still needs help despite excelling in class. At some point, it became commonplace for me to have her around. More often than not, people started talking about us.

“Aren't you worried that you're hanging out with me? The person who literally can't talk to anyone? Except for you anyway,” I signed.

“I don't mind really,” she said, “They say you ignore them when they try to talk to you. I think they just don't understand how.”

“Fair enough,” I sighed.

I really felt tense about the eyes locking around us but seeing her disregard them somehow made me feel much more relaxed.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. We've been hanging out together the whole time and only later did I realize that I was already trusting her.

One time, I ran into her inside the library. She signed for me to come towards her table.

“Here,” she mouthed. She lent me one of her notebooks and a pen. “I noticed that you're really good with words,” she signed, “Maybe you'd have a better time if you wrote them down.”

Since then, I’ve been trying hard to express myself through writing. This way, she was able to urge me into talking and opening up to my classmates. I was reluctant at first, but she dragged me into it.

I showed them how I felt through my writings in a notebook. Lyra, standing beside me with a gentle smile, promised to teach them how to do sign language so that our relationship would eventually become stronger. Fortunately, my classmates agreed.

By then, I started to feel like I was a normal person again. I was able to smile because of her and I felt like I really changed for the better. We started to do more things together from finishing homework in her house, to playing in the arcade, and even to listening to music in concerts. She told me that she read an article that says deaf people can still hear vibrations despite not really hearing sounds. It was then that I started to appreciate my life again.

When my doctor recommended a new hearing aid after my family saved up some money, I was beginning to hear things better. Things were working out for me, until the doctor talked to me about her.

“It's good that your condition’s turning up well Ethan,” he said while signing. “Your smile reminds me of that of a patient I have. When she has her checkup, she has always wears a really bright smile, like yours, with cute little dimples.”

It took me a while to internalize what he just said. I asked, “Is her name by any chance... Lyra?”

“How did you know?” he replied.

“Lucky guess, maybe.”

I hurried to her home after I finished my checkup. Panting, I asked her housekeeper where she was. “Oh, she just left a while ago, Ethan!” she signed.

I searched for a long while around the area. How come I didn’t think of this sooner? I assumed the people around her learned sign language just to accommodate me. How could I be so selfish?

I found her back inside the hospital lobby. She’d probably been waiting there a long time.

“So the doctor told you, huh?” she signed blankly when she saw me.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I signed back.

“At first, didn’t want you to think that we were two birds of a feather, but later I thought that it didn't matter anymore.”

“I’ve always thought that my disability was a burden. Why didn't you tell me about yours?” I signed.

“Ever since I was born, I already had a genetic problem,” she signed, “It never really was a burden for me to begin with because I didn’t know what it meant to hear at all.”

“After all this time… Was it because you pitied me? You’d play along with my assumptions because of what?” I signed harshly, “So that I'd feel special? You'd go that far to underestimate me?”

“On the contrary, no,” she walked towards me. “Like I said, I just wanted to be friends with you, Ethan, being able to hear or not. Your disability shouldn't stop you from living your life.”

I stopped to think for a while, unable to completely grasp why I felt some resentment. “Then how come everything went downhill when I became deaf? How come I was unhappy?”

“Then that's not the disability anymore, is it Ethan?” she said while signing, “Even if you can't hear, it doesn't mean you can't listen. You mean so much more than you think you do. Don’t think that your life is the way it is because you’re deaf. It’s the way it is because you’re the one who makes it, who communicates it.”

“How does that make sense? You don't know what you're saying! My life was ruined because I lost my hearing!”

“Was it really just your hearing that you lost?” she asked, “Or did you lose something else?”

“You're just twisting my thoughts!” I slammed.

“The only person twisting your thoughts here is you.”

My tears began to fall from my eyes after I thought about the things that Lyra said. I was overwhelmed with everything I've been through and all that I pent-up for 2 years.

Lyra embraced me and said, “Ethan, you're stronger than who you think you are. Deafness isn't our disability, it's our identity. I hope you understand that.”

I couldn't stop crying in her arms after everything that happened. One of the first things that I was clearly able to hear again was my sobbing.

“Lyra,” I said, “did you ever wish that you had the privilege to hear?”

“No, not really,” she replied, “but maybe that's for the best.”

A few days have passed after the school’s new term arrived. Everything was back to normal for me and I thought about everything that happened back then.

I've been thinking long and hard about how I've been handling my life, and I'd say, Lyra was right. I started writing more poems and stories to vent out my feelings. I shared them with other people afterward so that they'd know what it's like to be a deaf person like me, and I'd say this anecdote is one of my greatest works.

After classes today though, I saw Lyra staring outside a window alone in a hallway in deep thought. I walked up to her.

“It’s been a while since classes have started, Lyra. I've noticed that you haven't been interacting with anyone for a long time now. So what do you want to do today?” I smiled politely.

She smiled brightly back at me with those dimples.

Literary: Daughterless Mother




Masked child, motherless daughter,
bury me dear and bury me forever.
For not once will I ever hear your delicate laughter,
listen to you whisper stories in my ear,
feel the curl of your little, tapered fingers,
stroke your curly, ebony hair that so mirrored mine,
or even gaze at my own deep brown eyes through yours.
For if one is to save a life, another needs to give.
The barren white walls that had caged me
shall now be replaced with tight, creeping corners,
and the soothing, yet lonely cover of darkness.
But do not fret, my sweet child.
Go forth into the world awaiting you with open arms.
Surround yourself with uplifting smiles and lively chatter.
Let your footsteps carry you to bridges, to places,
for my heartbeat is now yours to feel,
and my breath, now your future.

Literary: Voices of Power



In a faraway land once stood an empire so far and wide,
Its foundation was built on conquest and genocide.
Its imperial rulers reigned with a rod of iron and voices of steel.
The people obey, for their words were backed by armies full of zeal.

Taxes and tolls were high and unfair,
Cities and towns lingered on hunger and despair,
Funds to better the people were corrupted by imperial decree,
By authority of the Emperor, carried out by cronies and lackeys.

Everyone knew what was happening but most chose to be silent,
For what was done to those who spoke up was not so lenient.
Those who wanted change spoke in whispers at night,
Planning and plotting for when they would take up the fight.

Demagogues with their silver tongues secretly rallied the oppressed,
Planting seeds of hope which won't be easily suppressed.
They knew the people's cry would drown the tyrant’s decree,
For armies are nothing to the people's insatiable thirst to be free.

Eventually, the day came when the people rose up as was decreed by fate,
To end their suffering and seize the apparatus of the state.
That was the day when the voices that commanded death and damnation,
Were drowned out by the resounding cry of liberation.
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