Dies Irae, Dies Illa

Justice is a slow and arduous process in the Philippines. She has been beaten, cheated, caged and twisted by the people meant to uphold her. But she is not dead nor is she defeated. She has been waiting for someone who will free her from the manipulative hands of the cult of the black robes, slave to the coin. Too long has she languished in their fell clutches. But now her champion, the eagle, has arrived.

The eagle from Davao has taken on the mantle of Malacañang. His wingspan carries the weight of a nation and its history. He soars to fearful heights that are well beyond the reach of those who came before him.

She watches as he thrusts forward, counteracting the stale and dull breath of the recent past with the sharp freshness of the winds of change. In her hands, she holds the judgment of those whose malice and greed have clipped our wings and bound us to the land longing for our place in the sky.

There is much work for the eagle before justice can prevail, untethered and free from the biases and temperament of the gods of Padre Faura. But he will continue to fly while she continues to wait for that day when she can once again wear her blindfold and truly dispense judgment that is even-handed without fear or favor.

That day will happen. Change is coming.

Punishment will come, dies illa.

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