by Rigel Portales

“My battery is low and it’s getting dark.”
               – Jacob Margolis

Rigel Portales: This poem is the result of conversations, stories, and banter that have been shared with me during my stay in the Malate Literary Folio, an organisation of young creatives and writers. I contrast their perspective to the narratives espoused by those older than us. What stood out to me was the stark difference in how we would describe our own narratives as one of survival and struggle, compared to the shorter, condensed narratives of success and pride that our elders would lovingly affirm.

I remember group-mates opening up or joking about their issues with mental illness, the job market for humanities graduates, and declining motivation yet when the older generation talk about us, it seems these things simply disappear. In the poem, I wanted to reflect on why this is.

At first, I developed it through the common names/titles that are given to achievers of our generation: the first and the one. Commonly in the Philippines, it is seen as a great pride of your family/clan if someone is the first graduate of one of the big four private universities or the first doctor/lawyer. In conversations with those older than me, I’ve come to understand that poverty and insecure income have led to these opportunities being denied those of their generation. As such, I think that extending these opportunities to the new generation is a means of communicating their love, for support to be given by those who could not afford it in the past.

As for “the one”, it is derived from classical narratives of chosen ones, understood in pop cultural terms as your fated partner (tadhana), and the one small step in the Apollo moon landing. You have been chosen and who are you to betray the expectations and good faith of those who have chosen you? In the poem, I liken both of these appellations to the idea of a lobotomy which in the past was seen as a legitimate medical procedure to “regulate” mood swings. To be the first in any category is a matter of pride but if those categories have forced sacrifices on you, I ask if it should still be celebrated insouciantly.

I also wanted to compare these appellations to the terms of endearment uttered by those closest to us: hijo/hija, kuya/ate, bunso. Each of them denotes, respectively, the youth, familial relation, and vulnerability of those addressed. These are what I think we need to remember (thus, the title of the poem) in opposition to the first and the one narratives. Conversely, to get forgetting is to understand what we’re losing in the use of other titles rather than terms of endearment, and other narratives rather than our own. We are no longer vulnerable nor understood to exist with the help of those we’re related to. We’re slowly understood to be the Western individualistic exception, the first to achieve and the one to fulfil the dreams of those around us. In this schism, I see an intergalactic separation (metaphorically) and literal alienation where we find questions inside us about our fate that remain unanswered and unfulfilled by those closest to us. Maybe this is what the titular Moonman (also the mascot) of the Malate Literary Folio is supposed to represent, something part-alien and part-human that starts to remember what it really is.

Published: Saturday 2 October 2021

[RETURN TO AUDITORY CORTEX 2021]

Rigel Portales is a 19-year-old, self-taught Filipino poet afraid of disappearing. Fortunately, his works have appeared or are soon to appear on the Koening Zine, Ghost City Review, and Sledgehammer Lit, among other places. He is currently an editorial writer for the Adversity Archive and poetry staffer at the Malate Literary Folio. You can find him on Twitter (@rijwrites) where he writes to preserve and preserves to write. His biggest inspirations for writing are his unyielding teachers, Ms. Jo, Sir X, Sir Kervin, and Sir Greg who have brought him out of/into his yielding.