Pyrrhic victory
\PIR-ik\
noun;
1.A victory achieved at great or excessive cost; a ruinous victory.
Side Note: Another attempt at the male persona. However this time, I write in the perspective of (in my eyes) a hero. Also, this is mostly fictional. Be aware.
I stood across from her as the priest read a passage from the Bible, the one that my father had personally chosen for me. She was beautiful. From the first moment I saw her, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with this woman.
As ridiculous as it may sound, I fell in love at first sight. As luck would have it, she was as beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. She was smart, refined, and never missed an opportunity to engage in a friendly debate with me. I loved how she was able to maintain stimulating conversations with me as well as vigorous arguments.
She gave as good as she got... if that's how the saying goes. This woman was everything to me and I gave what I could in return. But she knew I belonged to another. I had already been betrothed.
My heart, my soul, my past and present, belonged to my country and its people. I loved seeing the blooming flowers, the lush, evergreen trees and the nipa huts scattered across the provinces. I loved seeing the smiling faces of the people I worked so hard to save.
My country was imprisoned; caged down like an animal. He claimed to make rules to maintain order in this society. Ha! He made rules to make sure no one could oppose him while he ran away like a child to throw away the hard-earned money he had acquired from the people.
Innocent men were put into prison and for what? Expressing their rights to speak differently? Having different points of view? New ideas? At the end of the day, I knew I would be joining them.
I, too, am imprisoned. I am an honest man and for that, I am enslaved. I love my country with everything that I am. I refuse, and I will continue to refuse until my dying breath, to let this chaos continue for any longer.
'You deserve to be free like the birds in the trees; happy like children playing in the street; and loved like a man and his family.'
I called her one last time before my early morning flight. We both knew what would happen. I would set foot on the island, I would take one breath of its sweet air and I would die. His people would see to it.
I apologized over and over. I had my obligation to fulfill. But I knew the damage I would leave behind. My wife would no longer have her husband and my children would lose their father.
I grieved all of last night. I cried like a newborn child in my bedroom. But my life meant nothing, if I could even make the slightest difference; if I could show the world 'the Filipino is worth dying for.'
It can be a funny coincidence. Bravery felt to me like numbness and denial. I couldn't feel my feet moving to the exit of the plane. Nothing moved in slow motion as it did in the cinema. The last thing I heard in this world were two gun shots.
I did not let out a single tear or cry of pain for my enemy. I only laid on the gravel of the runway and let the darkness overcome me. I prayed for victory. Victory for my people and for her.
Goodbye, I love you both.
Side Note: Ninoy Aquino has become one of my heroes. Unfortunately, I do not know much about the history of my country. There is a conspiracy theory regarding his murder. We have no absolute proof as to who had ordered his assassination, nor do we know whom was involved.
Although I have my own opinions concerning Marcos and he is the villain in this story (as well as the real life story of the Aquino family), I did not write this to cover the tragedy... I wrote this blog because I was inspired by his fight and his love for the Philippines. I chose this particular title because Ninoy gave everything he possibly could, with very few exceptions, to do what he believed was right for his country. He knew he would pay the ultimate price, his life, the moment he stepped off the plane and took his first and last breath of the Philippine air.
I am truly honored to share his story with you and I hope that I did it some justice.
Benigno Aquino Jr.
1932 - 1983
---------------------------------------------
Song that inspired this blog: 'Bayan Ko' - Lea Salonga
"Ibon mang may layang lumipad,
Kulungin mo ay umiiyak,
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di magnasang makaalpas?
Pilipinas kong minumutya,
Pugad ng luha ko't dalita,
Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya..."
\PIR-ik\
noun;
1.A victory achieved at great or excessive cost; a ruinous victory.
Side Note: Another attempt at the male persona. However this time, I write in the perspective of (in my eyes) a hero. Also, this is mostly fictional. Be aware.
I stood across from her as the priest read a passage from the Bible, the one that my father had personally chosen for me. She was beautiful. From the first moment I saw her, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with this woman.
As ridiculous as it may sound, I fell in love at first sight. As luck would have it, she was as beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. She was smart, refined, and never missed an opportunity to engage in a friendly debate with me. I loved how she was able to maintain stimulating conversations with me as well as vigorous arguments.
She gave as good as she got... if that's how the saying goes. This woman was everything to me and I gave what I could in return. But she knew I belonged to another. I had already been betrothed.
My heart, my soul, my past and present, belonged to my country and its people. I loved seeing the blooming flowers, the lush, evergreen trees and the nipa huts scattered across the provinces. I loved seeing the smiling faces of the people I worked so hard to save.
My country was imprisoned; caged down like an animal. He claimed to make rules to maintain order in this society. Ha! He made rules to make sure no one could oppose him while he ran away like a child to throw away the hard-earned money he had acquired from the people.
Innocent men were put into prison and for what? Expressing their rights to speak differently? Having different points of view? New ideas? At the end of the day, I knew I would be joining them.
I, too, am imprisoned. I am an honest man and for that, I am enslaved. I love my country with everything that I am. I refuse, and I will continue to refuse until my dying breath, to let this chaos continue for any longer.
'You deserve to be free like the birds in the trees; happy like children playing in the street; and loved like a man and his family.'
I called her one last time before my early morning flight. We both knew what would happen. I would set foot on the island, I would take one breath of its sweet air and I would die. His people would see to it.
I apologized over and over. I had my obligation to fulfill. But I knew the damage I would leave behind. My wife would no longer have her husband and my children would lose their father.
I grieved all of last night. I cried like a newborn child in my bedroom. But my life meant nothing, if I could even make the slightest difference; if I could show the world 'the Filipino is worth dying for.'
It can be a funny coincidence. Bravery felt to me like numbness and denial. I couldn't feel my feet moving to the exit of the plane. Nothing moved in slow motion as it did in the cinema. The last thing I heard in this world were two gun shots.
I did not let out a single tear or cry of pain for my enemy. I only laid on the gravel of the runway and let the darkness overcome me. I prayed for victory. Victory for my people and for her.
Goodbye, I love you both.
Side Note: Ninoy Aquino has become one of my heroes. Unfortunately, I do not know much about the history of my country. There is a conspiracy theory regarding his murder. We have no absolute proof as to who had ordered his assassination, nor do we know whom was involved.
Although I have my own opinions concerning Marcos and he is the villain in this story (as well as the real life story of the Aquino family), I did not write this to cover the tragedy... I wrote this blog because I was inspired by his fight and his love for the Philippines. I chose this particular title because Ninoy gave everything he possibly could, with very few exceptions, to do what he believed was right for his country. He knew he would pay the ultimate price, his life, the moment he stepped off the plane and took his first and last breath of the Philippine air.
I am truly honored to share his story with you and I hope that I did it some justice.
Benigno Aquino Jr.
1932 - 1983
---------------------------------------------
Song that inspired this blog: 'Bayan Ko' - Lea Salonga
"Ibon mang may layang lumipad,
Kulungin mo ay umiiyak,
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di magnasang makaalpas?
Pilipinas kong minumutya,
Pugad ng luha ko't dalita,
Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya..."
This is a great piece.
ReplyDelete+5
I am just a bit confused about the pics. Is that really a bruise or makeup?
I actually am incredibly proud of these pictures and was upset that I couldn't post them on flickr. I used some make-up. I've never had a bruised eye, so I played it all by ear.
ReplyDelete