Tara Santelices

Antonia Marina “Tara” Santelices, a political science graduate of the Ateneo de Manila University, is still confined at The Medical City after being shot in the head in a jeepney holdup on Aug. 6, the eve of her 23rd birthday. Inquirer, Oct. 12/08

come, tara,

come rise 

with the sun

each day is

a beginning 

of the daily

tumult of war 

we keep deep

in our soul 

as it is, 

let the hospital

bed rise too 

with the early dawn

newly-born sun

its morning offering

sliver through 

your awaiting window

and a new day 

breaks through

and delivers 

God's blessing

at your door 

we keep 

the prayer

we keep 

the faith 

we keep 

the wish

that in your sleep

you will find rest

and in your rest

you will keep 

the one hope 

that lives 

and you will 

remember

all those who seek

the healing 

of their wounds

the penultimate 

blessing 

for their bodies

now warmed

by the touch

of our absences

we live in a land

with not much

this you know

and you forgive

you will forgive

abundance is 

at the bottom 

of our hearts

and we grieve

for those 

in whose name

we are saved

from the evils

of evenings 

like the one 

you had

they mark

the coming

of our years 

more as we 

keep the hope

but the hoping 

comes late

at a standstill

some of the time

such as this one

you have got

we do not know

we cannot tell

we run after 

the fighting words

that empower us

to deliver us 

from disgrace

to redeem us 

from this hell

that is us

i am a father, 

you see

you could have been

my daughter

as in this tragedy

all fathers 

are your fathers

all mothers 

are your mothers

all sisters

are your sisters

all brothers

are your brothers

this kinship 

is ours in common

like leaving 

in all its forms

you leaving us 

somewhat

so we pause 

for some sacred 

seasons

when we need 

to pray some more

we read you, 

we see you

and the papers tell us

of your mother, 

her grief

that of a universe 

gone so heavy

a volcano erupts 

in her chest

on her shoulders, 

narrow and frail

is the weight of days

she watches 

over you,

your mother

she watches 

the months 

go by

and love 

is her name

and patience 

is her name

the mother 

of your joy

and your time 

passes by

from afar, in exile,

we send you 

blessings

and the words 

that heal

finally

A Solver Agcaoili

Hon, HI/Oct 11/08