AMUSING it is as I muse
on the rooster’s different forms
throughout the ebb and flow of time,
finding not a difference but rather
a semblance of us Filipinos:
We could be in cockpits sparring
with each other with blunt spurs.
Only one shall be regarded victor.
We could be as sacred as we could
desire, beings as high as the sun
praising and venerating one another.
We could be crowing for those forsaking
Jesus Christ as their faith peters out.
And that is all we could do: crow.
We could be perched atop weather vanes
stock-still praying bahala na, not until the winds
dictate the direction we would be facing.
We could be strutting and striding on the land,
we animals of pride. Or yet, we could try flying
but reach only midair, for that is who we are:
Roosters. Nikko Miguel M. Garcia