Thirty seven years ago today, the Republic of the Philippines we dearly love was put under Martial Law through Proclamation 1081. Once earned the sobriquet as the Oldest Democracy in Asia, with a single stroke of a pen, the country’s democratic institutions were mercilessly butchered by Ferdinand E. Marcos. On September 21, 1972, the seeds of political avarice, manipulation, persecution, human rights violation and looting of the government coffer were planted in the humus soil of cruelty and apathy.
These truths are immutable and cannot be changed. Veritas numquam perit --- truth never dies.
These truths are immutable and cannot be changed. Veritas numquam perit --- truth never dies.
The victims of that unpopular regime are not forgotten. They may be totally silenced but their courage and what they stood for fighting a dictator remain fresh in our hearts.
Some were luckier. These were some Senators and journalists dumped into prison without charges and due process. Most of them survived witnessing the fall of the seemingly invincible dictatorship.
To all who were crushed but not defeated; to those who gave up their lives but unconquered, the survivors and all with indefatigable spirit fighting for democracy and freedom, the following poem by William Ernest Henley (1849-1903) is for you.
Some were luckier. These were some Senators and journalists dumped into prison without charges and due process. Most of them survived witnessing the fall of the seemingly invincible dictatorship.
To all who were crushed but not defeated; to those who gave up their lives but unconquered, the survivors and all with indefatigable spirit fighting for democracy and freedom, the following poem by William Ernest Henley (1849-1903) is for you.
INVICTUS
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
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