Pity

December 27, 2008 at 5:24 pm | Posted in outburst | Leave a comment
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“I never see a wild thing
Sorry for itself.”

—D. H. Lawrence, “Self-Pity”

Did you ever see a wild thing feeling sorry for itself? Perhaps a tiny bird fallen from its nest? Or a kitten lost on its own in some alley? D. H. Lawrence claimed he never did; and neither did I.

Pity—it seems—is an entirely human trait. It’s a feeling we bestow towards those less fortunate than us. It moves us to lend a hand, to help, to sympathize on others’ grief and sorrow. Some of us do it for a gain, some others don’t. Hey! It’s all human.

Yet if you care to look closer, it might be interesting to observe how some people seemed to cultivate more pity than others. Some people seemed to know exactly what story to tell, what expression to wear, which word to use, and to whom they plead … they seemed to glow in their sorrow, playing their roles as victims in an Oscar-quality performance [well, not an Oscar-quality, perhaps. A Kelurahan Theater Competition on Tujuhbelas-Agustusan might do]. And so they cultivate pity like the Valkyries reaping lives in the battlefield. They know exactly how to capitalize each episode of their [usually] never ending sorrow.

Continue Reading Pity…

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God, Are You There? It’s Me…

April 15, 2008 at 8:19 pm | Posted in outburst | Leave a comment
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It’s been forever since the last time you speak in a press conference. Longer still, perhaps, since the last time you held an audience. The world is changing, do you know? Those green pastures you made now gone, concrete towers in its stead. The peaceful hills and mountains are scarred, some of them transformed into hollow valleys.

The air is thick with smoke, blackening our dear souls. We breathe in anger. We breathe in hate. The hell you said awaits? Well, we’re living in it.

Your name is everywhere; resonating murder and destruction. Continue Reading God, Are You There? It’s Me……

What’s Going On?

April 15, 2008 at 8:12 pm | Posted in old stuff, outburst | Leave a comment
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A woman wept on the TV screen. Lamented the fate of her husband, convicted as a terrorist, awaiting death on the hand of the righteous law enforcer. “He’s innocent,” she wailed between her sobs. “He’s my husband.” The picture changed, a man in expensive suit with a boring tie. “It’s decided,” he declared, “Justice must be served.” The anchor woman pop in with a plastic smile, announcing another message of grave importance. Floods, catastrophes, war, human idiocy. They call it news, these tragedies. They believe we need to know.

They told us about this war in distant lands, they move us to do something about it. They call us to act, to go beyond the great sea and fight this war of strangers. Solidarity, brotherhood, justice: their words of wisdom. They forgot one more, though: violence. It’s the core of their actions. Violence; they breathe with it, live with it, can do nothing without it. They can’t help it, this cluster of manhood we call ‘human race’. Violence, it’s their language of ‘truth’. Continue Reading What’s Going On?…

pilgrim

April 14, 2008 at 8:12 pm | Posted in Fiction, old stuff | Leave a comment
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she came to me one night, when the moon went dark and the sky pitch black. she wore the cloak of solitude, her face covered by the veil of silence. the evening was full of the singing of darkling-beetles, but all went hushed as she drew nearer. she whispered so softly, but her voice filled the night without mercy: “fear not the dark, for it is the light that burns. in darkness, we are beautiful. in darkness, nothing is impossible. in darkness, we are free.”

i struggled to speak, but my voice deserted me. there we stood, she and i. the pregnant silence filled the space between our bodies. i was frightened, yet i could not move. just being in her presence has petrified me. i saw nothing else but her, heard no other voice but hers, felt no other being but her. in the deepening darkness i could feel her smiling, she took my hand so tenderly. again she whispered, “fear not…” Continue Reading pilgrim…

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