Jose Maria Sison, 1968
The guerilla is like a poet
keen to the rustle of leaves
the break of twigs
the ripples of the river
the smell of fire
and the ashes of departure.
The guerilla is like a poet.
He has merged with the trees
the bushes and the rocks
ambiguous but precise
well-versed on the law of motion
and master of myriad images.
The guerilla is like a poet.
Enrhymed with nature
the subtle rhythm of the greenery
the inner silence, the outer innocence
the steel tensile in-grace
that ensnares the enemy.
The guerilla is like a poet.
He moves with the green brown multitude
in bush burning with red flowers
that crown and hearten all
swarming the terrain as a flood
marching at last against the stronghold.
An endless movement of strength
behold the protracted theme:
the people’s epic, the people’s war.
a life on fire 