Friday, November 05, 2010

The Empty Stocking

There was a house

It stood majestically in the heart of the town

It stood proudly in front of the seat of religious fervor

It stood beside the political seat of power

It stared directly at the erect monument of the national hero

It presided over the festive atmosphere during celebrations

honoring the Lady of the Candle.

I do not know how the grand old patriarch had designed it

I do not know exactly when it came into being

I do not know how the great posts have been erected

I do not know from where the tiles and wood have come from

but I do know that the grand old man had created a vision

of symmetry and rhythm and beauty into every nook and cranny.

The house with its five spacious boudoirs and airy living area

surrounded by a balcony abloom with milflores during spring

to lend its harmony with the May Flores de Mayo

and chrysanthemums, yellow, white, purple during autumn

to be attune to the memorial celebration to honor the departed

Is a sight to behold, a picture perfect structure that gives

dignity, honor, color to a glorious southern town.

The house has seen the reign of the conquistadores

who called the Malayan forbears "los indios"

The house has catered to the chinky eyed nippon soldiers as they

danced and made merry-making in the airy living area

when they occupied it and made it their quarters

So they could preside in the early morning rituals of the townfolks

as they do their calisthenics in front of the warlords

counting...itcs, ni, san, si... over a speaker

While the owners cower somewhere in fear, powerless over their

priceless abode, fearful lest they get entangled in

the greedy, brutal power of the usurper with

their glistening bayonets and mirthful laughter!

Somehow the house has withstood storms that whirled around it.

Somehow, the house was preserved with all its history of glory,

of pain, of endless buffet of wind and rain

Until one fateful day, with one careless flicker

from the adjacent structure made by an uncaring, mindless

gesture that turned the flicker into a full-blown

hell bent on razing beauty down to ashes!

Now the house is no more. Now the dream has burst into a flame

of nothingness. Now the memories are gone!

Not even a hint of glory remains.


rodmcu said...


...hi ma'am Nitz! this is rodmcu73; I've read all your write-ups & like all of them...the prose is well polished,.. the message is mysteriously but neatly wrapped w/in the language-structure...a cursory glance at it won't do to get the message-one has to engage intellectually to get connected w/ it..and this is the beauty of written communication and you had it well expresed !
More power to you ma'am Nitz !

Anonymous said...

napaka-interesante, thanks