A Glass of old Water "Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet.

"Mama, I’m home!" Nobody answers.

Everybody calls me young, beautiful,

wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my Where is she? I look for her in the
lips, my red rosy cheeks and a pair of sala, but she’s not there. Where is
blinkering eyes. she? A-huh! In the kitchen!

I remember, somebody says that I I saw my mama, lying down on the

look like my mother. But that when floor, dead. With a glass on her hand.
she was young. I remember, she tried to get it.

Now, I am much lovelier than she is. Oh, God, just for the glass of cold
I’m a mortal Venus. Oops! What time water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!
is it? I must get ready for the party!

Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are!

Yes, I’m coming!

"Child, are you still there?"

"Hmp! That’s my mama"

"Child, are you still there? Will you

please get me a glass of cold water?"

"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"

"Please child, try to get me a glass of

cold water."

"Mama, please, try to get it on your

own."

"Please child, try to get me a glass of

cold water!"

At the party, I danced and danced the

whole night.

You see, I can’t leave the party at once.

I have to danced with everybody who
proposed to me. At last, the party is
over. I’m very tired. Very, very tired.

So, I went home to tell mama what

happened.
 I KILLED HER
I killed her because I do love her.
These hands, these hands that give life
to many, killed her because of my love
to her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of this
honorable court, please listen to me,
listen to my story before you give my
verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer
specialist. I was born in a slum district
of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know
him for I am a child of faith. My
mother brought me up in such
determination and my ambition was
to escape the filthy and horrible place
of Batalon. I was nourished with hope
that someday I might live a life
different from her. My mother had a
burning faith that she turned the
nights into days. All her efforts were
not in vain for I pushed through with
flying colors. My mother who had
given her whole life to me had tears in
her eyes as she pinned the gold medal
on my proud breast.
"But, mother, I promise to give life
and not to end it."
God…. She did not deserve the
unhappiness. She deserves to be
happy.
I run to my room and came back with
a syringe.
"Mother, forgive me…. God, please
understand me…."
"Mother, mother, you must not die…..
Don't leave, I love you. It was only a
distilled water…..Mother……
Mother……. MOTHER……"
Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me
your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled
water which ended the sufferings of
my mother.
Judge me….. Punish me………
GO, punish me………….. Thy will be
done!!!

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the

Philippines to the United States of
America. I embraced my mother…
tightly as I've reached the
plane….."Mother, mother,.." I
whispered. You will always be my best
mother in the world.

After four years, I came back with

laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I
gave my mother everything but I was
too late. I who had used to ease the
pain of many, came too late to the life
of my dying mother. I gave the best
treatment but the grasp of death was
so tight around her. My God, what is
the use of ten years of study if I
couldn't even use it at my mother's
pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry.

I run to her room. "Do you love me,
child?"… she asked, as I embrace her.
" Yes, mother….. If only I could get all
your pain and agonies…"

" Then….. if you love me, end my

sufferings, kill me… Let me die."
 and crooks! Now you call me names,
accused me, punish me for everything
I do, you do it yourselves. Tell me how
good you are.

Every pain and sorrow that I suffer is

BAD GIRL a burden in your mind. Every ugly
name that you call me is a curse
against yourself. Now, you wish to
ensure my future and give me more of
Hey! Everybody seems to be looking at your time and attention and protect
me. How dare you stare at me! Why? me from every evil influence that
Just because I am a bad girl? A good protects my very own existence. Then,
for nothing girl, a problem child? if you really wish to ensure my future,
That’s what you call me? hurry, hurry, back here where I shall
wait for you; because I need you. Then
I say bad words. I lie. I cheat. I steal if I am really bad, please you’ve got to
and I can even kill if I have to, because help me.
I am a bad girl. But, where are my
parents? You are my parents; my good
elder brother and sister in this society
where I live. Look what you have done
to me. You pampered and spoiled me;
neglected. You entrust yaya whose
intelligence is lower than mine, while
you go about your dinner and
gambling sessions. Then, you drifted
away from me - longing for a father’s
love and yearning for a mother’s care.

And I have no one to turn to. I sought

the company of my own kind - the
company of other children who have
been left by their own devices. We
organize things, notorious things.
Just so you would notice us. Just
because you have been bad
yourselves.

Perhaps, I am the most

misunderstood, the most notorious
member of this society where I live;
but the circumstances then I found,
are not my own making. It was you
who made this society where I live and
the family that I grew.

Once upon a time, I was a tiny, whinny

kid and itchy, bitchy, bouncing girl
whom you fonded with loving care,
but as I grew up, everything changed.
You began to spend more of your time
in parties, pokers and mad table.
Thus, you drifted away from me. You
even landed on the headlines of the
newspapers and peddlers racketeers

Taken For Granted
“Christians? Christians?”
Have you heard that call? They’re
looking for me. That’s definitely me.
You’re in doubt and Why? You want
me to give you proofs? Oh! That’s very
easy.
Who told you to doubt that I am a
Christian?
I am a Christian! How?
I went to church. I pray. I have my
religion. I read the Bible. I love kids
and I am giving them what they want.
I sing gospel songs. Now you’re telling
me that you are in doubt?
How dare you to question me?
Can’t you see? Or Are you blind? I am
the true definition of a Christian.
You’re so pathetic; you don’t have the
right to question me that way.
What?! You want to ask me more?!…
I’ll think about it for a second.
Hmhm… Ok! I’m sure I’ll be able to
answer all your questions fluently.
Go… Ask me….
You’re asking me if I go to church
every Sunday?! I told you… I GO TO
CHURCH… ahmm b-bu-but not every
Sunday. Every other Sunday I guess
that’s fine with the Lord.
Why?! I-I-I have a project every other
Sunday. Yes r-r-right, I have a project.
The Lord understands that.
Liar?! I’m not a liar. I’m telling you
the truth in fact I went to church last
three Sundays straight and Oh my
Gosh Cris is in the stage he’s starting
to play the guitar.
Ooops I slip!
Ok fine. I went to church three times
straight without absent b-because of
Cris. He’s cute, he’s talented. And I’m
still there for the Lord.
Liar? I’m not a liar. I am still a
Christian. It so happen that I don’t
have any projects that Sunday.
Ahhh! Fake?! I’m not a fake Christian;
at least I go to church.
Don’t shout! Ahhh! I said I’m not a
fake Christian, I-I-I pray… every other
day. At least I pray.
No! I said I am a true Christian I read
the Bible. I open it… Every time the
Pastor is telling me to do so.
Ok stop. Why do we need to argue? I
guess I really don’t know what
Christianity is?
Ok! I go to church not because of
Christ but because of Chris! I’m
sleeping every time there is a sermon
because I only love the music. I don’t
read my Bible because I guess that’s
boring. I sing… “Jesus, I surrender I
draw nearer, I fall down” but the truth
I’m not sincere with that. But I guess
my works will be credited in his name.
I share my blessings to the poor, i give
gifts every Sunday and I have a
religion I guess that works…I don’t
know.
Right, Ephesians 2: 8-9 was right. It is
not by works that I will be saved
because Jesus is the only way. And I
am so wrong I don’t even mind his
sacrifices on the cross. I am supposed
to be there because those are my sins.
I forgot my purpose here on earth;
you know what, he’s been good to me.
But I always take him for granted. I’m
doing things not for his glory but for
my own. I should live for him because
he died for me. I’m so ashamed now.
But Lord you still forgave me. You’re
so good. And you brought me to my
knees.
Now I’m talking and standing in front
of you and I don’t care if you are going
to laugh at me. I care to tell you things
that I believe I must tell you. He won
everything in me and he’s been
waiting for you too… If you believe
you have him, you may now shout
what Carman once wrote “Jesus is the
Champion”.
Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of
bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a
child so young, so thin, and so
ragged.Why are you staring at me? With
my eyes I cannot see but I know that you
are all staring at me. Why are you
whispering to one another? Why? Do
you know my mother? Do you know my
father? Did you know me five years
ago?
Yes, five years of bitterness have passed.
I can still remember the vast happiness
mother and I shared with each other. We
were very happy indeed.
Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard
on the door and a deep silence ensued.
Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our
peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s
side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the
cellar, there in the cellar where they
cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s
arm but he did not move. It seemed as
though his feet were glued to the floor.
The door went “bang” and before us five
ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you
Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest
of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You
are under arrest,” said one of the beasts.
They pulled father roughly away from
us. Father was not given a chance to bid
us goodbye.
We followed them mile after mile. We
were hungry and thirsty. We saw group
of Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths
watered seeing the delicious fruits they
were eating,
Then suddenly, we heard a voice call,
“Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . .
Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we
ran towards the direction of the voice,
but it was too late. We saw father
hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was
terrible. He had been badly beaten
before he died. . . . and I cried
vengeance, vengeance, vengeance!
Everything went black. The next thing I
knew I was nursing my poor invalid
mother.
One day, we heard the church bell
ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a
sign for us to find a shelter in our hide-
out, but I could not leave my invalid
mother, I tried to show her the way to
the hide-out.
Suddenly, bombs started falling;
airplanes were roaring overhead,
canyons were firing from everywhere.
“Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother
was hit. Her legs were shattered into
pieces. I took her gently in my arms and
cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!”
“No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said
mother.
But I cried out vengeance. I was like a
pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine
not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance
is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the
words from my mother before she died.
Mother was dead and I was blind.
Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is
divine but vengeance is sweeter. That
was five years ago, five years. . . .
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of
bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a
child so young, so thin, and so ragged.
Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . .
It’s. . . . God’s. . It’s…