Picture of Princess Donah Paragamac

Princess Donah Paragamac


Picture of Zoie De Guzman

Zoie De Guzman

Graphic Artist



Contempt and derision waltz into the room

unannounced, uninvited.

Gnarly skin on bones lifts its head up,

revealing that of a youth, unaware of the fate that awaits him.

Confusion and revere cloud the child’s vision 

with how slick and agile the mood has shifted.

Before the stinging sourness seeps through his skin, 

killing his ardor and expectation.


Rusting shackles dig into calloused skin,

the click of the lock as it’s unlatched –

once was a sound of a calming melody 

now akin to a strident clamor.


Each intake of breath, he’d released with such rigor

now aware of the fate that befalls upon his inutile existence.

Reveniō,” he uttered, a silent prayer going unheard.


The rough grab of a cheek is what awakened his mind,

reminiscent of how he was molded into convenient fruition.

Not quite as pleasant as the firsthand pride he wore like skin 

upon being forged to completion, to perfection, 

from outside to within.




With faces of varying youths calming down from their euphoric high.

And as the moon falls into a lull,

peaceful illusion shatters.


Despite the late night hours,

citizens arrive from near and far.

A collective wish and urge to partake,

With attentive gazes, the cause of which one can’t abandon nor forsake.


Adults who’ve drowned themselves in maudlin and booze

find themselves scurrying for front-row seats, 

unhidden excitement of which ooze.

Yet, it was his presence that had live chatter reduced to that of silent, tantalizing stares.


It was that of familiar pinpricks of grass and the stench of midnight air,

of cedar wood floors pattering and creaking upon contact with dainty feet,

that had halted the child’s steps.


Reveniō,” he uttered, like a curse falling on deaf ears.


There, stood parallel to the child,

another face, a mirror image of his

causes his throat to clog up with bile.


Epiphany hits, strikes, and leaves him,

bruised and battered.

Analogous to such sensation

of water being bashed against such fragile skull.

The receding pain lingers, even without concrete impact

with lungs expanding

too wide to find words.


With a nudge forward,

with his throat sticky,

with the sensation akin to cobwebs swallowed,

the whole world comes crashing down.


Youthful eyes that knew all too well

stared at figure that stood

who clutches the blade, strangling it between his palms.

So sharp, with things it could puncture endless.

With ornate detail

Of rust from the velvet ichor that bled 

from those beforehand, unfortunate to perish.


His once naive gaze flickered to the crowd

source of such strong hatred he longed to uncover.

The crowd cheers and woos,

prior festivities long forgotten,

too kept up with being dragged along

with the cries and pleas to behead the body of which the youth belongs.


With one step, the next follows,

before he knelt on both knees.

Both eyes, the same, differ in emotion

bore straight to each other.

The youth that knelt looked up

Reveniō,” he uttered, 

laid bare, vulnerable, yet lenient.

A gear falls into place, clicks, and the executioner sighs.


Two silent figures communicate through their eyes

The one who stood had a smile he passed on

The one who knelt with his pair of eyes left to widen

a prayer, a longing, granted 

Leaving the one who knelt feeling as though he’s won.


A final nod strikes the chord,

Assurance laying at its wake

The one who stood, the executioner, smiles

As if uttering;

“After the ground eats up your flesh

rest easy and be guaranteed,

a life of yours to own is what will follow.”


As the pricks of daylight emerge from the horizon,

echoing and reverberating was that of the sound of the blade, unsheathed.

echoing and reverberating was that of ten tentative footsteps,

echoing and reverberating was that of steel coming contact to his nape

echoing and reverberating was that of a head falling, one belonging to that of the child who grinned

leaving those who stared silenced, left to gape.




After such cruel execution,

when that of the mob has been left with none,

the one who stood and held the blade,

clutched the severed flesh close,

holding onto that of what once was him.


Reveniō,” he finally uttered.

His voice, with power capable of calming that of a ferociously beating heart

The youth that laid couldn’t help but gaze

as if he, the one who took his life,

who stood and held him,

was a being itself loved by light..


He looks with his cloudy eyes, acknowledgment brimming

Thinking to himself how such ending is fitting


“And to die in your hands is a sight to behold

I regret not that of rebirth with the life you have taken,” he utters

Reveniō,” he replies, like a command saying,

come back, return, for you shall become one again.”