My photo
ALBERT B. CASUGA, a Philippine-born writer, lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, where he continues to write poetry, fiction, and criticism after his retirement from teaching and serving as an elected member of his region's school board. He was nominated to the Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007. A graduate of the Royal and Pontifical University of St. Thomas (now University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Literature and English, magna cum laude), he taught English and Literature (Criticism, Theory, and Creative Writing) at the Philippines' De La Salle University and San Beda College. He has authored books of poetry, short stories, literary theory and criticism. He has won awards for his works in Canada, the U.S.A., and the Philippines. His latest work, A Theory of Echoes and Other Poems was published February 2009 by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. His fiction and poetry were published by online literary journals Asia Writes and Coastal Poems recently. He was a Fellow at the 1972 Silliman University Writers Workshop, Philippines. As a journalist, he worked with the United Press International and wrote an art column for the defunct Philippines Herald.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013



Atop a hill overlooking a harbour
of boats only the rich can afford,
He presides as a statue of the man
on Golgotha who was nailed to a tree

for denying Caesar's dominion over all
that moves in the streets of Jerusalem.

Isn't it a grand irony for him to preside
over the realms of the wealthy even as
the poor on the other side of the hill
wail for their daily bread where none
could be broken to nurture the hungry?

Christus Erectus, on the Nicaraguan hill,
how far have you come down from that tree
to raise your fingers in peace where there
is nothing but violence and greed? You
have come a long way from the Hill of Skulls
to tower over this pilgrim's photo-outlook
indicating the blessings first for the rulers.

How your resurrection has become a tourist
spectacle in some bricks and stones! Still.
I pray that my wobbling knee could still
make it down the hill like those drunken
praetorians who made off with your robe,
while I make off with mementoes of stones.


 (In Nicaragua at the Shrine of the Divine Merciful Redeemer. San Juan Sud, Nicaragua.)

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