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| Image credit to the site of: The Philippine Reporter |
Four centuries bound, a nation wept,
Under foreign rule, its dreams were kept.
From shores of pearl to mountain steep,
A people longed, their wounds ran deep.
Spain’s iron grip, cold chains confined,
Cities silenced, faith redefined.
Gold and gospel twined as one,
While voices dimmed beneath the sun.
Yet embers stirred, their fire untamed,
A whisper turned to roaring flame.
Bonifacio rose, with sword in hand,
His cry electrified the land.
Rizal with ink, his justice wove,
A martyr’s blood, the seeds he sowed.
Through exile’s pain and prison’s keep,
His words awoke the souls asleep.
The Katipuneros carved the way,
Their bolos sang, their hearts unchained.
From Cavite’s clash to Balintawak,
Their courage cracked the midnight black.
Then came the dawn—June twelve, the date,
The world stood still to watch fate take.
A flag was raised, the anthem soared,
A nation freed, its spirit roared.
But freedom’s cost was steep and wide,
New hands reached forth to shape its tide.
Yet through the trials, through the test,
The Filipino heart beats unoppressed.
So hear the echoes, proud and bold,
The tales of heroes, scarred yet gold.
For every drop of blood once paid,
A nation stands—unbent, unstayed.
~ €mpêråtrïzV
~ Copyright ©EmperatrizV @Sunflower for Emily, 12 June 2025 - All Rights Reserved
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