Going to the First Day of a Comrade's Wake

for Wowie Dizon

Maybe he was my friend, but more of an acquaintance (considering our "considerable distance," 
to be inexact).

Twenty stab wounds all over his body, shards of Red Horse beer bottle punctuate
the head wound, gaping and looking for answers (and, perhaps, justice).

Little Wowie did everything: organizing unions, making placards, flags, bearing them,
dancing with them...

Little Wowie was everywhere: factories, workers' meetings, rallies, press conferences, 
celebrations, wakes...

There are theories on why there is poverty in this country, and in the whole world,
and theories arose on the death of Little Wowie, blood-drenched in the garage
Monday morning.

The movement keeps moving, empowered by its dedicated cadres;
the movement will keep moving sans one dedicated cadre.

(Pretentious of me to call him, "comrade." Having left the movement a long time ago. 
Lacking the dedication and perseverance of the recently departed. At least I'll pay my last respects.)

(Photo courtesy of Jones Guimo.)

Note: To think that I met him on the street parallel ours only about a week ago...In the news (Philippine Daily Inquirer, June 17, 2015): Caretaker killed in NGO office robbery. 

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