Invocation

By

Translated by Kristine Ong Muslim
.
In the name of the rock. In the name of the lily blossom.
In the name of white paint smeared across a tomb.
In the name of the skull. In the name of marble statues
Of dwarves in the garden. In the name of the pocketknife
Thrust into a pipit’s heart. In the name of burned
Letters from a concubine. In the name of letters
Making up your name. In the name of your nocturnal name.
In the name of the moon. In the name of the sun.
In the name of the eclipse. In the name of the eyes
Of a blind child. In the name of pigs
Killed for the fiesta. In the name of chicks
Dyed for the fiesta. In the name of children
Who had nothing to eat. In the name of children who had no one to play with
But themselves. In the name of wives
Abandoned by their husbands. In the name of gay fathers.
In the name of forgotten poems. In the name of people
Who did not have their pictures taken. In the name of lips
Never kissed. In the name of hands
Never held. In the name of faces hidden
By a black veil. In the name of ears
That had not known the sound of a violin. In the name of a flower
That bloomed in the morning and wilted by nightfall.
In your name, you who would someday die and fade away.
.
.
.
Imbokasyon
.
Sa ngalan ng bato. Sa ngalan ng liryo.
Sa ngalan ng puting pinturang ipinahid sa puntod.
Sa ngalan ng bungo. Sa ngalan ng marmol na estatuwa
Ng mga duwende sa hardin. Sa ngalan ng lansetang
Itinarak sa puso ng pipit. Sa ngalan ng mga sinunog
Na liham ng kalaguyo. Sa ngalan ng mga titik
Ng iyong pangalan. Sa ngalan ng iyong pangalan
Sa gabi. Sa ngalan ng buwan. Sa ngalan ng araw.
Sa ngalan ng eklipse. Sa ngalan ng mga mata
Ng bulag na paslit. Sa ngalan ng mga baboy
Na pinatay para sa pista. Sa ngalan ng mga sisiw
Na kinulayan para sa pista. Sa ngalan ng mga batang
Walang makain. Sa ngalan ng mga batang walang ibang makalaro
Kundi ang kanilang mga sarili. Sa ngalan ng mga inang
Iniwan ng kanilang asawa. Sa ngalan ng mga baklang ama.
Sa ngalan ng mga nalimot na tula. Sa ngalan ng mga taong
Hindi nakunan ng larawan. Sa ngalan ng mga labing
Hindi nahalikan. Sa ngalan ng mga kamay
Na hindi nahipo. Sa ngalan ng mga mukhang itinatago
Sa itim na tela. Sa ngalan ng mga taingang
Hindi nakarinig ng tunog ng biyolin. Sa ngalan ng bulaklak
Na bumuka sa umaga at nalanta sa takipsilim.
Sa ngalan mo na isang araw, papanaw at lilipas din.

Marlon Hacla (translated by Kristine Ong Muslim)

Marlon Hacla is a programmer, writer, and photographer. His first book, May Mga Dumadaang Anghel sa Parang (Manila: National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 2010), was published as part of UBOD New Authors Series II. His second book, Glossolalia, was published by High Chair in 2013. He also released two chapbooks, Labing-anim na Liham ng Kataksilan (2014) and Melismas (2016). In 2017, he created the first robot poet in Filipino, Estela Vadal, as a Twitter bot with the Twitter handle @estelavadal. He lives in Quezon City, Philippines, with his cats. . About the Translator . Kristine Ong Muslim is the author of nine books, including the fiction collections Age of Blight (Unnamed Press, 2016), Butterfly Dream (Snuggly Books, 2016), and The Drone Outside (Eibonvale Press, 2017), as well as the poetry collections Lifeboat (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2015), Meditations of a Beast (Cornerstone Press, 2016), and Black Arcadia (University of the Philippines Press, 2017). She is co-editor of two anthologies—the British Fantasy Award-winning People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction and Sigwa: Climate Fiction Anthology from the Philippines, an illustrated volume forthcoming from the Polytechnic University of the Philippines Press. Widely anthologized, her short stories have appeared in Conjunctions, Southword, The Cincinnati Review, Tin House, and World Literature Today. She grew up and continues to live in a rural town in southern Philippines.

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