letters to our heroes in 140 characters or less
moving these here from my original twitter thread in light of the national elections so far. and possibly for what will be of our future too.
to padres mariano gomez, jose burgos, and jacinto zamora: death by garrote is much much quicker than accepting this fate. this dark fate.
to the first expatriates in europe: you left your country with high hopes. our hearts wish to leave now too, but She needs us most.
to graciano lopez jaena: you may have fooled a lot of people with your speeches, but that’s nothing compared to how they fool us now.
to marcelo del pilar: could it be possible as well for him (or her) to give up the position for someone much worthier?
to juan luna: you could paint us. as you see everything at this moment. in reds, in black, in grey. in all violence hidden and unhidden.
to jose rizal: how difficult was it to write the ultimate goodbye? how difficult to love a country, with people ignorant of love?
to apolinario mabini: you saw the world, this country, in legality and the contrary. what about now? what is right? what is wrong?
to andres bonifacio: where? where’s the hope you’ve been shouting, you’ve been fighting for? is it gone? is it waiting to be unearthed?
to emilio jacinto: you sacrificed youth for freedom. you wrote so much. and, my dear, i guess this is the path i may have to choose now.
to melchora aquino: mother, could you ever heal our broken hearts? mend our fatigue minds? feed us wisdom instead of fallacies?
to gregoria de jesus: we are lost too. in this forest. going in circles. searching for something. a corpse maybe. or burying the country.
to gabriela and diego silang: teach us how to love. despite revolution. love, alongside and permanent, with fighting for everything good.
to emilio aguinaldo: does who have not, must forgive you. because this, this atrocity, is the one deemed to be unforgivable at all.
to antonio luna: brashness was not the answer. and i believe this was what you thought, when betrayal and bullet and blade robbed your life.
to gregorio del pilar: i can forgive you, you know. just not this. not him. it’s tirad, murderous and fatal tirad, all over again.
to artemio ricarte: you were right. somehow. the revolution did not die with bonifacio, or with you, or anyone else. it continues. now.
to manuel quezon: do you still prefer a government run by filipinos with all this evidence right now? it’s hell, and will be hell.
and to every unsung hero, to our ancestors of thousands of years: this is our country now. this is us now. a disgrace. a pity. i’m sorry.
