(Memory of a coup d ‘etat during the Aquino Administration)

Last day of November:

Memory is cloaked in images of Pugadlawin,

The speech, a fresh bunch of flowers

At the monument and page of pining desire.

First week of Advent:

The wind, a bite of moisture

And the stars bottled in a glass case.

Last day of November,

First week of Advent,

Unrestrained growl, heavy footsteps and bullets

At the intimate darkness

Of the breaking morning.

Ay, the half-awakened light,

Personal and impersonal to the splendor

And resonance

Crawling with alarm, asking incoherently--

Making love to the fear, seeking comfort in the tears.

Last day of November,

First week of Advent,

The soldiers revolted:

Their iron wings tore through the clouds,

Tanks and trucks cradled EDSA,

An inchoate memory crushed by a footstep.

Last day of November,

First week of Advent,

A thousand motives exposed to the country.

Ay, the bulging motives

Are personal and impersonal

Nipples hardened, genitals cringed

In the blood and suffering that inundated the area.

(Ay, the tongue is distraught, the mind speechless

The cruelty of Golgotha hovers over the manger.)

Last day of November,

First week of Advent,

News is concealed

And the country is inquiring.