Letters

By IAN JOZEL N. JEREZ EDITOR’S NOTE: This piece is one of the works in a five-part series in line with the Dapitan 2019 theme Insureksiyon. All works that are part of the series are written by the Flame’s Letters staffers. MY COUSIN told me she saw a man walking along the side of the road last night. She described the man to be dressed like a woman, to which I responded: “How could you tell?” It is not difficult to distinguish a person’s identity through the clothes they wear, she explained to me. She went on to provide a more vivid description that illustrated how the man so obviously appeared not to know how a woman walks and, in particular, how a woman speaks. I was barely listening to her as I was lost in my thoughts. The (wo)man my cousin saw walking along the street last

By MARIA PAMELA S. REYES EDITOR’S NOTE: This piece is one of the works in a five-part series in line with the Dapitan 2019 theme Insureksiyon. All works that are part of the series are written by the Flame’s Letters staffers. THEIR STARES were everywhere. Accompanied by their rambunctious mouths, they followed my every move as if I was a child who needed to take heed of orders. Their eyes undressed my very essence. They watched over my actions like I was a lion in a cage, but I am human, and that was how I wanted to be seen. The moment I came out of my mother’s womb, the world already knew what I was and where I was supposed to head. I was expected to be prim and proper: the perfect example of a refined lady. During my toddler years, I was constantly told not to run on the mu

By RYAN PIOLO U. VELUZ EDITOR’S NOTE: This piece is one of the works in a five-part series in line with the Dapitan 2019 theme Insureksiyon. All works that are part of the series are written by the Flame’s Letters staffers. Sa pagsabog ng bukang liwayway Liyab nito ay kawangis ng mga tala At sa inusal na himig at salita: Siyang sa akin ay bumuhay at gumising! Letra at salitang sa atin—wikang pambansa. Alab ko ay nilimliman sa diwa ng mga bayani Lingas ay pinalakas sa mga pusong api Sa mahabang panahon, pag-usbong ay natigil Ako ay inalipin, sa sariling bayan ay sinikil Tinanggal aking alab, ngunit ‘di ako nagpasiil. Sa gitna ng rebolusyon, muli akong isinilang Nagkatawang tao sa mga nobela, tula, at awitin Ang baga sa pusong naupos, sa alab ko ay nagising Nang ma

By LORRAINE C. SUAREZ EDITOR'S NOTE: This piece is one of the works in a five-part series in line with the Dapitan 2019 theme Insureksiyon. All works that are part of the series are written by the Flame's Letters staffers. I REALIZE now that that man was born to rebel. His very birth is a struggle. From within the peaceful lull of the womb, he is delivered into the world kicking, screaming, and covered in blood. He tries to deal his payback through the intensity of his wails—his attempts to cause the same disturbance that was brought upon him earlier. He cries as hard as his feeble voice could muster, but no one pays him any heed. To them, it is but a natural reaction to his surroundings; to him, it is the lament of his newly-emerged existence. He enters the world as a blan

By ISABELL ANDREA M. PINE EDITOR'S NOTE: This piece is one of the works in a five-part series in line with the Dapitan 2019 theme Insureksiyon. All works that are part of the series are written by the Flame's Letters staffers. MY EARLIEST memories of my grandmother are her giddy smiles and the scent of her fabric softener. To my three-year-old self, she was a best friend whom I can never live without; every place she stepped on forged paths to new adventures. Our apartment became our playground, with her chasing me whenever I wanted to play taya-tayaan and looking for me whenever I wanted to play tagu-taguan. Every moment in my childhood was filled with her presence; her face etched itself deep into my mind like deja vu constantly played on repeat. She was the prime parental f...