Is your name Hercules?

By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

IT is midnight. I woke up to the battering of the trees and the low-lying plants dropping to the ground. My heart sank. I tried to put some of them up, but the wind became stronger. The plants danced frantically with limbs flailing in all directions, some twisted, others twirled. In the middle of the storm, I resigned to the power of the wind and prayed that the other elements prevail on its might. Even in their pain, the plants danced, beautifully, in the rain.

I waited hours for the storm to weaken. At 2:00 a.m., the situation is worse. Right now it is bad, the rain is pouring mad, the wind stopped howling, but it is still breaking the limbs of trees. My plants are kissing the wet ground. And I watch, in full acceptance of the devastation and the somber aftermath of Ulysses. But Ulysses means wounded in the thigh, worse than the condition of Achilles’ heel, and should not be this strong. This must be Hercules.

The wind howls again, a Hercules, a “Her”, not a Hiscules, much stronger, like a woman getting wind of being scorned. So I clasped my hands together in prayer for deliverance, looking towards the sky, a surprisingly serene and bright sky, oblivious of the havoc below it.

 

Fallen

till when will you stay

my limbs hurt

I am stripped

of my will to endure

leave, leave, I pray

I want to breath

stand tall again

to be embraced

by the warmth of the sun

At 4:38 a.m., I brewed coffee and toasted bread. I could hear the roar of an airplane, a passing car, and a flying metallic object slashing through the heavy drops of rain. Metro Manila will swim its way through the morning.

At 7:00 a.m., the rains fell harder on branches that were already weakened by the tossing from the wind. The kalamansi (calamondin, Philippine lime) that supported the bougainvillea, the ternate (Clitoria ternatea) and the sampaguita (Jasminum sambac/ Arabian jasmine) drooped so low I could finally harvest its remaining fruits. The morning glory (Ipomoea purpurea) opened its beaten petals and forced a half-open smile. The gumamelas (hibiscus), the bougainvilleas and the potted trees fell and kissed the ground. Those that were growing underneath the trees, the pothos and the hoyas, were knocked off from their pots and mangled upon the impact of the fall.

For a while, people will forget about COVID-19 and think Ulysses. They could not care less about the mythology of the name. In fact, as memories are short, they will forget even his name. Others would mistakenly remember him as Hercules, from their remembrance of his mighty strength depicted in the movie, not from a lesson in mythology, culture and history.

 

Forgotten

fallen, but surviving

the heavy lashes

no matter the pain

the marks remain

only as maps

to the beaten path

of nature’s wrath

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