The Manila Collegian is the official student publication of the University of the Philippines Manila.
14/02/2025
Love, In All Its Forms
IN SOLACE
Within the walls of my dim-lit room,
I seek hints of love.
I look for it in the warmth of the sheets I catch whiffs of,
Under the roof that keeps me dry
from the rain’s gentle murmur.
And in the fleck of light the cracks of my windows allow—
Subtle, but enough to guide me,
to know my way around.
I feel it in the mundane,
in this stillness,
Where peace lets me sleep in a world so loud.
Truly, I owe myself much of it.
IN GRIEF
Love lingers in unspoken names,
echoing in empty rooms,
In houses that once sheltered lives,
now heavy with absence.
It sits at tables set for those
who will never come home,
In chairs that grow cold,
In conversations that will remain unexchanged.
It waits by the gates of decades-old prison cells,
where faces and hope fade behind bars
and freedom is a distant promise.
It stays like dust that settled on a surface,
Untouched but never forgotten—
Proof that love remains.
For as long as there is grief, there is love.
IN STRUGGLE
Love is heard in the voices of those
who rise before the sun—
fisherfolk casting hopes into the sea,
farmers tilling dreams into the earth.
It is felt in weary hands,
calloused by labor,
yet tender when held by those they provide for.
It marches with candles in the rain,
through streets that swallow voices,
through crowds demanding names be spoken,
stories be heard, justice be served.
It is found in the outcries of justice,
In the courage to stand firm
Especially in the face of danger.
It pulses through veins lined with hope,
In voices that tremble but do not falter,
In eyes that see beyond despair,
Into the promise of dawn breaking through.
It beats fiercely,
Undaunted,
In the struggle of tomorrow.
IN SACRIFICE
Love stands unyielding,
etched in the names we dare not forget—
revolutionaries who dreamed of freedom,
martyrs who traded breath for a future
they knew they would never see.
In the mountains,
where the earth keeps their footsteps,
and the air carries their echoes,
truly, their love lives on—
One so fierce that it chose struggle over silence,
a sacrifice for the land they call home.
It resides in letters never sent,
In goodbyes unspoken,
In hearts that broke silently,
as the fight continues.
Love begins in quiet solace,
a whisper of warmth in the stillness of the night.
Until it rises fierce in voice unshaken—
a flame that neither time nor fear can sweep.
Love is not just felt
It is lived, shared, and kept—
Whole, in all its forms.
Words by Alyosha Trinidad
