Babang-Luksa

Note: I was asked to contribute a poem by the May 18 Memorial Foundation of Korea for the 30th anniversary of the May 18 Gwang-ju Democratic Uprising. This poem will be published in their journal.

BABANG-LUKSA
by Joi Barrios

(For the student victims of the Gwang-ju massacre,
and Filipino activist youth slain during Martial Law and the Arroyo government)


Babang-luksa.
Sa aking bayan,
isang buong taon
na nagsusuot ng itim ang naulila,
tanda ng pagluluksa.

Babang-luksa.
Ito ang araw na dapat iligpit
ang kulay ng hinagpis,
ang araw na dapat
humakbang sa bukas.

Ngunit paano nagbababang-luksa
ang isang buong bayan?
Paanong malilimot ang pinaslang ng dahas,
pinaslang nilang sakim sa kapangyarihan,
pinaslang nilang nangamba sa lakas
ng nag-aalsang taumbayan?

Hanggang kailan ipagluluksa
ang ating mga bunso
na nabuwal sa gitna ng pakikibaka?
Hanggang kailan ipanghihinayang
na sana'y sa puso na lamang natin tumarak
ang mga sibat,
ang mga punglo,
at nang lumagi pa sila sa mundo?
Ano ang taning ng luksa at lungkot
sa pinigtas na buhay ng musmos?

Inyong itinatanong:
Bakit nga ba patuloy na nagluluksa?
Ang pagmamahal natin sa kanila
ay waring tali
na mahigpit na nakabigkis
sa ating mga pusod,
dakilang alaalang mananahan
sa ating mga sinapupunan.
Lahat tayo'y kanilang mga ina,
kanilang mga magulang sa pakikibaka.
At ating isinusumpa,
ang araw ng katarungan lamang,
ang araw ng babang-luksa.




BABANG-LUKSA
by Joi Barrios

(For the student victims of the Gwang-ju massacre,
and Filipino activist youth slain during Martial Law and the Arroyo government)

Babang-luksa.
In my country,
we wear black for a year
to mourn a loved one.

"Babang-luksa" is the day we put away
the color of grief,
the day we have to move on.

Yet how does a nation stop mourning?
How do we forget those
slain by violence,
slain by those hungry for power,
slain by those who feared the strength
of a people in revolt?

How long shall we mourn
our youngest children of the struggle?
How long shall we regret
that it was not our hearts
pierced by bayonets and bullets?
When does the grieving,
the gnawing emptiness end
for plucked lives of the youth?

You ask: Why do we continue to mourn?
The love we have for them
is an umbilical cord that ties them forever to us,
the greatness of their memory
living in our wombs,
as we become their mothers, their parents
in the struggle.
And we pledge,
it is only the day of justice, of "hustisya,"
that is the day of our "babang-luksa."

Author's Notes: From 1994-1996, I lived in Taejon Korea. I was there for my certificate course in Korean Studies from Ham Nam University.