Liyab

The end of wandering
06
Aug
By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento
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The end of wandering

by YSABEL SACRAMENTO FROM A distance, the continuous drumming echoes throughout the campus walls. There is still a long path ahead for us to walk on, with each block from different faculties entering the triumphal Arch of the Centuries. We eagerly wait for our turn, the adrenaline rush through our…
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Last Shift
30
Jul
By Trixcy Anne Loseriaga
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Last Shift

by TRIXCY ANNE B. LOSERIAGA THE GENTLE breeze welcomed my presence the moment I stepped foot inside her domain. Gaia’s children danced while I immersed myself in listening to nature's overture. A tune repeatedly sung by my mother during the early years of my existence.  It was dawn. My father…
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Nature’s deception
23
Jul
By Maria Althea Javier
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Nature’s deception

IT IS not surprising to see you wonder about what goes on as night falls. And today, you also sense something unsettling in the sunshine.  Could it be the statuesque sculptures that seemingly hide centuries worth of paradoxes? Or the empty, inhumane calls between birds and other creatures? Perhaps it…
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Into the yonder
16
Jul
By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento
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Into the yonder

by YSABEL SACRAMENTO THICK SMOKE from passing vehicles swarm España’s streets. The sky blends dark hues of orange and blue. Below the setting sun is the usual traffic and the crowd of students rushing to hail a tricycle, or racing to the nearest pedestrian lane. Manila’s humidity and Cecile’s hasty…
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09
Jul
By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento
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In the palm of your hands

by YSABEL SACRAMENTO DELICATE is one of the many words that describe a child’s touch. Soft, fragile, unwrinkled— these portray a child’s touch the best. Similar to the vein pumping from their wrist, all the way to their chest.  Lightly and quietly beating, their hearts are just as fragile and…
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02
Jul
By The Flame Literary
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What a person seams

by YSABEL SACRAMENTO IN EACH passing day, there is a different combination of fabrics seamed together—denim on leather, lace on cotton, lace on silk. Sometimes, there is no fusion. The thread runs along smoothly on the seam line, binding both cotton and lace together. An ambiguous sensation rushing through each…
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To all of our days
25
Jun
By The Flame Literary
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To all of our days

AS THE day starts, my mind impersonates an empty hall. The deafening silence haunts the liminal space.  The passion that was once ablaze within my body dwindles. Truth be told, fatigue has scalded my body as if I was burned down to a cinder. Today is a bit different; after…
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New world
11
Jun
By The Flame Literary
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New world

THE SOFT shimmer of moonlight illuminates the gardens near my village.  They are right; taking a midnight stroll does help soothe my dreadful heart. These last few years of my life in the University were tough but I grew and learned a lot. My diary is a testament to all…
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By me, for you
03
Jun
By Alyanna Ysabel Sacramento
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By me, for you

THE SCORCHING heat of the afternoon is enough to make Josephine feel sick throughout her shift, the knotted ends of her pamaypay almost wearing out. It is only a little over the afternoon, but her bones are starting to feel like they could melt and dissipate. “Okay ka lang dyan?…
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