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Showing posts from April, 2015

A Walk with God

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Photo by Yvonne Carpio “Be careful, you might step on the homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk.” This echoed in my head as I walked at the city center. I have not written about them before but maybe this is the perfect time. I see families sleeping on the concrete pavement by the buildings, I even saw a toddler awake looking straight back at me. To those who are luckier, they have a cardboard and a blanket. Some have absolutely nothing just their backs on the cold pavement. I feel empathy every time I see them during my early morning exercise. This took me to the age old lesson in my Religion class about the dilemma of the unequal distribution of wealth in the world. There are plenty of resources enough to sustain the whole human population. The problem is that the pyramidal blueprint of society puts the rich patricians at the pinnacle while the suffering plebeians form the large base. People know about this already. The most important th...

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Papa's Post: Beyond Baras, beside the bay

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I Atop a bamboo bordered hill Where sun-browned sparrows sung all day Where wind and rain came cool and clean Beyond Baras, beside the Bay, The cogon grass once covered all. And there was naught but nature's peace Until one dusty day in May When men, all clad in combat green, Came up the virgin hill to stay Where once the cogon covered all. They raised their flag and built their camp Of nipa huts in neat array They cleared and burned the cogon grass That hampered both their work and play; The grass that once covered all. The sound of men and war machines The cry of life, the sighs of still- Unspoken hopes, the grief of death Then sounded, echoed on the hill Where once the cogon covered all. But that was long, so long ago Upon that hill now naught is seen But one decaying broken pole (The flagpole once, of the men in green) And cogon creeping over all Atop that bamboo hill Where sun-brown...

Papa's Post: Love for Love

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a face, in pain, looks up to me           and i, his father, grieve that he, though in his infancy           must shed the tears that leave no man, no mortal free. what must have been Thy agony           to hear Thy only Son cry "why has Thou forsaken Me!"           when He, the Spotless One was dying on the Tree? a face, unheeding, frowns at me           rebellious at my call and angered, i forget that he           is but a boy, for all i see, is mockery O! how boundless is Thy mercy!           endless is Thy love! that seest but my human frailty,           i, Thy creature, who strove to scorn and mock Thee! i flounder on this raging sea!           i may not rise above this coming swell! so if this be    ...

Papa's Post: My Lady's Secret*

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                                                               -I-    LORD, I have a question, if I may?    I don't say Mark is wrong, I wouldn't dare.    But John is silent, why? And John was there,    He was with Peter on that Easter day.    You see, the women reached the tomb that dawn    And found You gone! They found the stone rolled back    And useless were the spices in their pack!    And this by Matthew, Mark and Luke and John.    There's something missing in the lines I read---    Between the time the angel rolled that stone    And You appeared to Mary, nothing's known.    These precious moments have been left unsaid.              And since not all...

Papa's Post: When Then Comes Easter?*

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Lord, is it still You that's crucified In captives scourged and tortured to own their guilt Or wasted if they can't be their captor's guide  To uphold what falsehood, force and fear have built? In the dispossessed? In workers dismissed or slain To perpetuate the cheap and docile labor To shore up sagging sweat-shops, ensure their gain And cater to, secure the foreigner's favor? In soldiers wounded or killed in line of duty Pawns in a super-show of progress and peace While carpet-baggers wallow in wealth --- the beauti- Ful people scheming and stealing without surcease?          Is this Your passion still --- Your people's affliction?          When then comes Easter? To this, our crucifixion? *Naga Times, April 11, 1982 photo credit: wood, on wood, on wood. via photopin (license) License: (license)   photo credit: Watcher via photopin (license) License: (l...