To My Dear Son

Every year people visit 

the graves of the loved ones 

they have lost.

They come back to the tombstones

Made out of slabs of marble

With carvings in gold, swoopy letters:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“A loving mother”ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “A dutiful father”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“A beloved daughter.”

They come back to the tombstones

And decorate them with flowers and food

They come back to the tombstones—

Proof that their loved ones are still here,

Only resting quietly beneath the earth.

How I wish I could do that for you.

How I wish I could have buried you

In the earth with the rest of them—

How I wish I could have fashioned

A marble tombstone for you

With gold, swoopy letters:

ㅤㅤㅤ“My precious son, my only child,

ㅤㅤㅤYou will be in our hearts forever.”

But what use is a tombstone

Without a body to bury?

What use would be marking a grave

If the grave cannot ever be filled?

Most people have a body to grieve.

But all I have of you, my son, 

Is a pocketful of fading memories,

And your voice that I can no longer remember.

Most people have a body to grieve,

But all I have is the memory 

Of you being stripped away from me.

Not by nature nor by God,

But by the people who had sworn to protect

Prancing around

In green uniforms and bulletproof vests.

My precious son, my only child,

It is not enough to keep you only in my heart forever.

I brought your body into this world, flesh and blood

It is my duty to return your body back to the earth,

Now flesh and bone—the very proof that 

you are still with me. (are you still with me?)

I have bought the tombstone already, anak. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPauwi ka na ba?

Article: Alexis Cantuba

Illustration: Kristel Orosco