Exile, you have not gone through this anguish before, no, not in this manner and mode.
You admit: the anguish of the soul is necessary for cleansing, deliverance, purgation. It is hellish, certainly, but the fire--The Fire--is needed to purge the gold of the dirt of the earth. It is this going-through-the-fire that releases the glint of the gold, the shine in its sheen, its goldness.
You know all these now as if you know the back of your hand, the knowing familiar and comforting.
Each day is as difficult as the days before and yesterday, you had the news again.
There is no let-up for this anguish, it seems. Today, it cost you your sleep in a sister's home, in your own bed. The night was long last night and in this early morning hours, right after you were jolted by that dream that was symbolic of the washing of hands before an adoring public.
The sorrowing is longer for all the pains and sacrifices that you and your conscientious collaborators put in to make things work.
One word hurt you so, leaving an unnamed ache somewhere in your mind.
People who think they think better say there is mismanagement somewhere.
You remember the ethical adage on human act:
Who, what, where, with what ally
In what condition, when and why?
Oh, well, people. They amuse you, they give you joy, they give you sorrow.
You need to accept things as they come now, change those you can.
Those you cannot, leave them as they are.
There is virtue in this, in this rite of resignation to assuage the aching soul.
You need to heal yourself, exile, heal it many ways now.
A. S. Agcaoili
July 13, 2006