Writer's View

Makibaka! Wag matakot! Makibaka! Wag mata—

Silence echoed as the megaphone held by the leader dropped, clanging on the pavement. A corpse oozing with blood laid next to it.

Eyes wide, mouths agape, at the sight of a friend, a father, a Filipino, arms and legs sprawled. Unmoving. No longer breathing. Lifeless.

The hands of the man clad in armor shook and trembled. His helmet-covered face hid his eyes that closed when he pulled the trigger. His bulletproof vest failed to silence his pounding heart that broke at the sight of his nation’s downfall. One fellow crushed by his own hands.

The masses heed no mind of what the armored men were feeling, for they did not know. How could they? An army of men geared with guns and bombs ready to shoot and hurt everyone in sight. That was the sight they could only behold.

With staggered breaths, one took a step. Another stretched her arm. Each one reaching for the other, forming a barrier of protection against those who vowed to serve and protect.

Hindi na muli. Together, they pushed forward. Left. Right. Left. A human barricade made with the arms of every Filipino who wished for the end of darkness.Those who stood at the frontlines faced the horizon with determination. No more. No more blood shall be shed for power. A woman who lost a husband, a child who lost a father, a brother who lost a sister. They all faced forward and shouldered on. “Wag matakot!”

With tears streaming down their faces, a man who held a gun and a man who held only his own strength, whispered to themselves “Ang mamatay nang dahil sa’yo.”