Who Cries for Maguindanao, and for The Massacred?

As anger has grown, and sadness comes with it, I have come to ponder on the true nature of the aftermath we call The Maguindanao Massacre. As Justice Secretary Agra cries out in pain for all the criticism he has taken for dismissing two Ampatuans of murder charges, a greater question is to be asked.  Because the cries are still to be heard.

And we ask with great anguish, who cries for Maguindanao, for the souls of the departed? Who cries for the massacred or for the families left behind?

The families left holding on to memories instead of their loved ones? Agra cries not for those whose blood are now part of the Maguindanao land and of its earth A land who has seen too many deaths, the blood that has been shed, innocent and the damned, justice has not been served.

Agra cries for the selfishness of the hurtful words inflicted on him, and yet, nothing of the lives that have been forever changed. Lucky is the man himself, for life he still has, that blood still runs through his veins, and for the skin that has never been pierced with the swiftness of bullets.

Does he cry for the savagery and of the massacre?

Oh the cruel morning of the Maguindanao Massacre, not a glimpse of the foreshadowing of the great evil that would be inflicted, that HELL would descend upon Maguindanao once again..

The rise of evil men, the demons of the dark, with these we need not fear the unknown or to question what HELL is.. it is in the hearts of men, the hearts of those whose beat has Satan gloriously proclaiming, “proceed my minions”.

The dark days of Maguindanao and The Philippines, it has been seen in the massacre, in the shots of rapid and violent fire, and in the toiling of armed mercenaries and the acts private armies.

The dark days has been seen.

And so, we ponder, and contemplate, and even send over these thoughts to Agra — who cries for Maguindanao? It most certainly is not him.

I hear the restless souls, but does he?

The echoes for justice, the cries for help. The sorrowful cries, of those who walk endlessly, for their souls cannot rest.

The moaning and the great despair, there is no one to turn to…

Oh, Agra, your cries are but a drop in the ocean of those whose cries still echo in our ears. The plight of the souls, you should hear them in your sleep. Until the day you breathe your last breath, they shall call out.

But can you hear or will you listen?

And so, this will continue, as we ask, who cries for Maguindanao, for the slain, and for the butchered? Who will cry in the nights and in the days to come?

Will the cries be silenced with time, and forever be shelved for the “important” and for the now?

One thing for sure, oh Agra, the only ones who cry are those who want that piece of real estate we call justice — and peace.

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