SUCH LOSS FELT once more. Hundreds, thousands, and even a million of the nation’s children have experienced loss due to an amalgam of life’s greatest birthgivers of tragedy: man, and nature. Typhoons, which we are well-acquainted with, alongside a rotting system of those meant to elevate our lives, soon meet us in person at our own demise. Democracy; a raffle for our souls. R.I.P. Emily Dickinson, today’s weather wasn’t all nice.
During the months of July and August, the Philippines was met by a persistent and unwanted visitor: typhoons. Streets became rivers and houses collapsed into ruins. Families had to climb onto rooftops, some pets were left behind, and children, especially those who are barely tall enough to stand against the rising current, lifted furniture in desperate defiance.
“Homes that were meant to shelter us have collapsed, not only from the harsh nature of the storms, but from the corruption that hollowed them out long before the thunder was heard. The wailing is unheard for filtered are the ears by flood that drowns in addition to the empires they’ve built from the common men’s honest work.”
The average workers were left stranded, others at home unable to attend to their work, pay withheld by forces outside their control while some had to bear with staying at their workplace, withheld from being in the comfort of their own homes. These all too familiar situations were replayed multiple times, reinventing themselves one way or another. Yet, an effective flood control management system remains non-existent.
The government continues to present itself as a performer, masquerading through the final act; handing out coins, sacks of rice, photo-ops, and temporary relief. Salvation is clothed in short term remedies, while potential implementation of effective systems remains untouched. What normalized tragedies have we subject ourselves to.
While democracy has given us the right to elect those who lead, we now suffer the consequences: incompetent governance defined not only by inefficiency, but by devastation and wreckage. Although the blame merely lies on the uninformed, for they only ever fell victim to the system that failed them.
Homes that were meant to shelter us have collapsed, not only from the harsh nature of the storms, but from the corruption that hollowed them out long before the thunder was heard. The wailing is unheard for filtered are the ears by flood that drowns in addition to the empires they’ve built from the common men’s honest work.
Democracy, as we know it, has decayed into a gamble. The ballot box has become a shadow play where the corrupt always wins. In the game of rouge et noir, we seem to be cursed with the unfortunate fate of drawing black—so I wonder out and about: who’s out there with mercy enough to stand for the forsaken?