The Memory of a Flame


HE WAS a steady flare full of ambitions and goals. When he was a student of mine, he used to talk about going places and leaving a legacy behind and every time he stepped out of the classroom, he walked as if he was already taking on the world.

However, his flame burned too bright and died too soon. As he was about to dive into the outside world, his light easily died because of the gust of the cold evening wind.

Tonight, I stand with hundreds of students fulfilling his ambition for him. We tell his story through flares flickering with a hundred angry voices, while his family writes his name under the fading twilight using melted candle waxes.

With determined hearts, we march while holding candle lights in our hands to the landscape of uncertainty, hoping that when we reach the other side, justice will finally ignite across as a roaring fire. F JESSICA MAUREEN P. GAURANO

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