PAPA
This is a simple tribute to an extraordinary man. People reckon him as a “man of the masses”. He was among the few Boholanos who is a Carlos Palanca Awardee and a three-term Municipal Councilor.
As a Family man, he would still play with his kids whenever he comes home intoxicated. Sometimes when he comes home late, he talks to them while eating at midnight. He was always present on Sundays which is family day. Even if he comes home late every day, his family did not feel any resentment because they knew that he was doing his job. They were not envious towards his peers even if he spent most of his time with them in far-flung barangays because they knew that it was all for the best interest of the people. Occasionally, certain issues always come out through casual drinking sessions. He was the voice of ordinary citizens as evident in his authored resolutions and ordinances. He expressed his love for his hometown; its culture and environment – through his literary craft – and how it is entangled to its people.
Until now, we meet different people who share their experiences with my father. Everytime they share their memories of him, we somewhat feel that he’s still very much alive, not physically but in the hearts of those people who were touched by his character.
This Father’s Day, I will share with you his final poem. And like geckos, he is just sheltered behind those clouds, going out in every opportunity to keep in touch, once again, through our dreams. But this time, he is at the Hall of Angels.
HALL OF GECKOS
By Clovis Nazareno
From blank wall to the other blanks bounce
Croaks of the elderly echoing the same stage
Hall of cinematic acrobatic lizard schemes.
The faded flag is draped over the coffin.
Above the torso peeks the cosmetic face, oblivious
To the geckos ceiling antics, begins to gather dust.
Tok ten times while the curved tail slaps the wall
Panel. We forecast our fortune by the alternate fall
Of the tok. Each exercise ends in smelling wax.
Coffee is served liberally like animosities.
Rivalries and covetousness lurk in the funeral smoke.
The lizard with the hugest eyes drops its wet reminder.
Ten geckos in unison croaking alternately yes or no
Scatter immortality and greatness from the plastic chairs
Out into the black, mocking the agile deft lawyer.
The sons daughters kin the wake repels true
Feelings toward lizards crawling upturned the ceiling
Of the wide hall usual with cinema ridicule.
Salute to the people inside the hall to the grave face
Inside the coffin to the flag that accompanies it below
The earth is the hoarse geckos final tune, our fate-mate.