Stars Above You

seventeen

"Good morning!"

Emilio cheerfully walked into the dining hall that morning.
Most of us smiled and turned to greet him.

It has been two days after our conversation about the past.
And I was convinced to really perform well in my task.

To move on. To forget.

Emilio sat in front of me this time.
He held something in his hand.

He smiled.
"Perhaps you'll like it."

I gently took it from him.
"Poetry?" I asked.
"Yes it is." He replied.

I smiled as my hands traced the letters on the cover.
"Thank you."
He smiled again.
"You're welcome."

We began to eat.
Santiago was talking as if he were in a normal, busy street.
"So I see the both of you are getting along."
He looked over to us, eyes curious.

"We're only friends, Tiago." Emilio said.
He began to pour water into his cup's open head.
I continued to focus on my food.
Deeply thinking, until we all stood.

Everyone continued to do their work,
While I sat in the living room area, turning pages of poems.
Emilio was watching, looking amused.
But I kept on reading, enchanted by words.

"You know," He said aloud.
"You look good just sitting there, looking like some book addict."
I looked up for that little while.
"I love them. Though it's been a while. I've never been able to hold another one until today."

He flashed another smile.
"Good thing I managed to make you hold another one."
He walked towards the side of my chair.
"Books and poetry pay very good roles in change and history."
My ears jerked up. "I'm listening."

"You do know Doctor Jose Rizal, right?"
I put the book down this time.
"Of course I do. He's a hero."
He patted my head. "Very good."

I recalled what I know about Doctor Rizal.
"I see where you're going." I muttered.
Emilio nodded and leaned against the wall.
"Yes. Books are significant because they can inspire people to make a change."
"Just like how Doctor Rizal's Noli Me Tangere' and 'El Filibusterismo' inspired the 1896 revolution."

This time I was the one who nodded.
"They sure did. They inspired Andres Bonifacio."
"Indeed. And I look up to Bonifacio as well." I heard Emilio say.
"Both were also poets." I realized.
"Exactly."

We spent the time talking about the nation's history.
And the sparks in Emilio's eyes, I was able to clearly see.
I realized then, that Emilio was not only a counselor and a love expert.
For behind the bed of broken shards and flowers, was a fierce warrior.

A warrior, who's willing to face our country's conquerors.

A warrior, who's willing to risk his life for freedom.

I listened to him talk, trying to ease the worry I felt.