Alexander Martin Remollino
A final tribute to Monico M. Atienza
Your passing opened up the road
to a convergence of contradictions.
It seems as though the entire human race
was there for your stopover
and the march to your final destination.
So many mouths claimed
to have been friends with you,
it seemed like a contest for pouring out
the best testimonial.
Such is the glory of your greatness
that all wish to bask in it,
and the sole consolation lies in this:
that merely doing so does not make them
a single inch greater.
If the land and the wind
that you not just once serenaded with your poems,
the walls and floors and ceilings
of the classrooms and offices and meeting places
that you graced with your presence --
the mute witnesses to your struggles and sufferings --
could speak,
they would cry out one by one to the high heavens
the names of your true friends.
They know that your true friends are they
who fully live the convictions
you embraced to the end.
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