By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

YESTERDAY, I came across Farah Decano’s post on FB which showed a photo depicting the positions of four presidential aspirants regarding the Philippine Offshore Gaming Operators or (POGOs) during the campaign period with the caption:

Papayagan mo ba ang POGO Operations?/ Nakakamiss ang mg panahong/ May inaasahang pag-asa (English: Will you allow POGO Operations?/ Missing the time/  When there was a ray of hope).

In this photo, three of the candidates said Yes. Only Leni Robredo replied, No. POGOs are online gambling firms that operate in the Philippines but cater to customers outside the country, dominated by the Chinese, whose operations are quickly evolving as Pambansang Bangungot (National Nightmare).

The nation thirsts for good governance, but the citizens often trade this want with what they need at the moment, driven by poverty, both materially and spiritually. This choice had become a pattern that politicians exploit. They have become better at it, and the population had become too dumbed down to change.

Last night, prompted by enchanting photos of the brightest full moon, I waited, amid the drizzle, to at least get a glimpse of moonlight. For almost an hour, I looked up, seeing only dark clouds, until slowly, but very quickly, the light pushed itself in between the spaces, and vanished with the passing airplane, which I didn’t see but detected from the distant, humming sound. Such is the hunger for light. Such is the speed by which hope is taken away. . .

Stolen

here, waiting for you
for an hour, watching dark clouds
go by, distorting the perfection
witnessed by the others
at another time, another place
where the rains were tamed
not to drop, and the clouds
shied away, sharing the light

when finally you peeped through
very quickly, in seconds
there was hope,
among the flowers,
among creatures
who stopped, hoping . . .

in just a few seconds,
the dark clouds spread
a black shroud draped
hastily, you vanished
as quickly, with the cruising airplane,
which remained hidden, but softly
humming, stolen in plain sight
like a ballot box floating
in Maguindanao
peeping through
mud

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