I woke up in a dream gazing at beauty that lies in the fields that I knew has a name.
Hope visited my thoughts as I gaze at the sunrise in the horizon where the fog lifts its embrace of the fertile lands that once bore sweetness.
The memory of the image has left me deep in awe of how the goddess of land could have been so generous to sprinkle this piece of earth a blessing not only of beauty but of serenity.
But like the approaching storm from afar there is a nightmare that lies hidden in the stories of those who fell on the wretched earth that bore the lineage of Presidents.
This land has a beauty that could now only speak in whispered nightmares of the ones that killed the dreams of those whose blood has been spilled on the soil whose sweetness has become a mirage a lost memory orphaned by the bullets fired at the gates of hell guarding the palace of the lords who stole and claimed it.
Then it dawned on me that this land this nightmare this hypocrisy has a name.
It is called Hacienda Luisita.
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