Tale of a People

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TALE OF A PEOPLE[1]


I

Never was I a conquered, vanished race.
Freely flowing my blood had been in stream.
Wantonly had grown my bones: formed my face,
Ramified had my twigs remain untrimmed.
Manisfest'd are my clothes, my ways, my plead;
A free tongue I speak and articulate.
To God I submit had remained my creed,
Still to Makka I circumambulate.
Never was a Spanish monarch my name,
For their cross and sword to a crescent failed.
Nor the American had brought me shame,
For my wielding Kris never been derailed.’
So to you the pseudo-democracists,
Never will I to your imperialists!

II

So why'd we succumbed I refrain to ask,
To their honeyed tongue and their mystic charm?
Untold we then the face behind the mask,
The surface beauty, underneath but harm.
Stagnant we had and unnerved to move,
When strong is our thigh and firm is our breast.
When sharp is our blade and brisk is our hooves,
Why can't we just scourge and flog them to rest?
Nay, what is a deed with wrong intention?
What's left an act devoid of purpose?
When the mind is shadowed by illusion'
Framed mind and abled Will can't juxtapose
Even by now and unknown to us then,
Our thoughts had been shaped and contoured by them



III

Though enlightened we are from our slumber,
The nightmare to reality persists.
Questions formed as the lightning and thunder,
From where's that sound after the flash exist'd?
What must we do amidst this awareness?
What must have done, rather should I have asked?
Knowing where Paris had hit Achilles,
Knowing the face underneath the mask.
Scourging and flogging will not clear the mind.
Though necessary are them for the fight.
Free mind and abled will is the true rhyme'
Insha-Allah freedom will be in sight.
We must pass through the ways of the Prophets,
Or we end in the theater like puppets!

IV

Once upon a time and so long ago,
There's a story to tell and to relate.
There existed an archipelago,
Now it is called the Sulu sultanate.
And from Arabia Shiekh Makhdum had come.
Armed only with Tawheed sealed in his heart,
With the ways of the Prophet in his arm,
The submission to the will of God start'd.
Without the armor and the point of sword,
The kingdom grew to the neighboring side.
Abode to the commandment of the Lord,
To spread the message, compulsion aside.
Truth a guidance is without compulsion.
For action is naught but an intention.



V

Time had passed as we lift another page,
When the maritime exploiters arrived
For gold, god, glory they carried with rage,
Imposing terror to our native tribe.
But no! my people defended the land.
"Protect not only" but as commanded,
By Allah, his Prophet and for Islam,
So the hegemony was prevented.
And indeed only the edge of our shores,
Had they set their feet and ominous plans.
With such courage so they coined us the Moors,
With such valor like Muslim Africans.
To the right path we must stick my brethrens,
So for us the earth and of the heavens.


VI

Now let us journey to our nearest past,
When the white men but with black cloaks appears.
Bringing promises and freedom at last,
Thus end of Thirty and three-hundred years.
At first sight we fell in love like lovers.
Yielding and trusting in their neat façade.
When the bees kissed these orchid flowers,
Seeing an oasis yet a mirage!
Mimicking in the midst of mockery,
They fooled us with their wit and craftiness.
With shrewd plans that had left certainly,
Wandering in the waves of wantonness.
Beloveds, now we are learned already,
Shall we remain fixed, always unready?

[1] This is the tale of a group of people called Bangsamoro. The author tried to imitate the Shakespearean sonnet, 14 lines iambic pentameter. However, he failed to make the poem iambic, although it is in 14 lines and with 10 syllables each. This was written in Zamboanga City almost 13 years ago.