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how do i make him understand
why i live for and work with thousands.
the mountain people, the luckless landless peasants,
the weary workers, the restless searching youth,
the underpaid professionals?
how do i make him see with my eyes
the tears and blood of centuries?
how do i make him hear with my ears
the cries of hunger and of anger?
how do i make him believe that life is lived
not only for one�s self and family
but also for the downtrodden and deprived
that they too may live and not just exist?
how do i make him understand
that freedom is fought for and not given
that peace comes after the war
that the ocean roars with the waves
that calm sets in after the storm and quake
that he was born after bloodily tearing away from my womb?
how do i make him feel
the pain of a young mother
forced to leave her first-born
by the fascist declaration of martial law?
how do i make him feel
the confusion and frustration of a young wife
hearing ambiguous news of her comrade-husband?
how do i make him feel
a mother�s longing for eighteen years
for her first flesh and blood?
how do i make him feel
the joy and fulfillment when he is with me
the emptiness and uncertainty when we say goodbye?
he made me remember my promise
that i would come back to him.
he asked how long and why so long
i saw him suffer, i felt his pain.
shall i give up my convictions then
shall i leave all that i lived for
in exchange for son and his siblings?
but how shall i face the world?
how shall i face life?
how shall i face you?
for then, my son, i would no longer be
the mother whom you knew.
how shall i tell him
that my spirit still soars, still restless
for the freedom I�ve so long fought for?
how shall i tell him
when i come back to him
it will be with triumph in my eyes and smile.
amid cheers and roars of millions
for freedom won?
yet how shall i tell him too
that after all, i may not be so lucky
to live it all through?
how shall i tell him
that such is life
for the revolution exacts great price?
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