SINCE JUNE, the days started to darken most of the time. It is the onset of the rainy season in these highlands of North Luzon.
July is now upon us and the burnt mountainsides have taken on a fresh green colour. I wonder why I am no longer awed as in all July(s) past.
In the night, my head is bowed in prayer. I hear the songs in the distance, buried deep in time. At these times, the months of June-July are rather dry. Just a decade ago, the songs of my nights still reverberated with the earth’s waterspouts close by. Mountainsides were lined white as clean water thundered downstream in their huge volume. The sights and sounds of water flowing in springs, falls, rivers and rivulets almost anywhere in these mountains accompanied my coming and going in the house. In my lying down, the reality of waking up to the same fresh life, like a song, brought a hearty smile and then a restful sleep. God is good in my days. I saw his loving kindness in the day time; and in the night his song was with me.
Now doubts assail me in the night. I had become more of a skeptic. Just nothing good will come out of this cash(erred) life. It dismissed us from our responsibilities and sensibilities for the commons in exchange of cash, perhaps until all water is bottled and air also tanked and sold by and for the strong.
“Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts...” Dear God, how have things come into this where all lands and natural resources are possessed and sold. Worst, this cash-“erring”-life plunders and leaves nothing for the “have-nots” but filth, disease and shame.
I feel the pains of time, never knowing the comforts and bounty of the “cash-life” brought upon us. I am awake most of these nights seeing visions of my kind. Diseased people; some are friends, relatives, men, women and children suffering and dying without cash. “If you do not have cash don’t get sick.” What a dirge they left keeping my nights restless and weakened like a washed out reed in the day?
The low lying clouds have descended cooling my feverish and numbed limbs. Does this matter when this pilgrim has lost his strength and sight towards home? I will just not lose hope when it is all I got that remains.
I will keep my mind on that land of my forefathers; land of pristine mountains, lakes and rivers of fresh waters. In this night oh Lord, your song shall be with me, put a smile on my face before I sleep. I waver and ere in this life. I feel lost but my prayers are unto the God of my life who will bring me home. When I get there, I shall write back to sustain the light.