I’d like to gather my children and their children’s children
and we’d meet by the shore at dawn.
We would watch the horizon burn as the sun makes her climb.
Out of the water, our ancestors would rise up,
from the jungles behind us, they would come,
until we are surrounded by our lineage of
warriors, of rebels and resistors; of queens and kings
of a forgotten lineage; of gods and goddess, along
with several deities we know as heroes in our fables.
I would look at each of them in turn,
In reverence and in hope, that one day, my children
And my children’s children would keep their legends
by heart. “This is the story,” I would begin,
“of my life and it begins with you all.”
I look to find the one face I have wanted to see: my Lolo
– story teller, grandfather – and I would hold
his hand with pride and gratitude. “It began with you:
your love, your lumpia and your words.”