Old Money
A poem
Kept beyond the willow tree
are stashes of cold cashes.
Along the muddied grass,
they are hidden in dashboards
and windows seals —
bank notes in secret banks.
Stocked within the junk
which piles them like old money
from a rich family
but really,
it is for the beloved daughter.
Worked from the blood,
sweat, and bones
of an ill-fated mother.
Who lives vicariously
through a cherry eyed angel.
Her work is not found
in broken teeth,
and punctured roots.
Rather, it is found
in the pinkish flush
of a teenager’s cheeks.
Built from a legacy
of promised dreams
and harrowing testimonies.
Beyond the willow tree,
a girl guards the old money.
Afterword
Mana or inheritance in English, is what Filipinos often gossip about with their family members.
“I heard, she’ll receive a huge amount of farming land when she gets married. Her husband is gonna be one lucky man!”
Not saying this is an appropriate discussion during family reunions, but the person with the juiciest news gets the most validation during these grandiose events. And often, people will risk their morals for a good time.
There is a beautiful yet devastating feeling in the act of unrelentlessly working and giving for another human being. I imagine all the mothers, father, and other parental-figures who dedicate their life for their children. But most parents do not have 4-hectres farming land that they can give to their daughters; most fathers do not have an expansive business that they can pass down to their sons. Most parents only have little trinkets and family principles to offer. Whether your mana is materialistic or not; they all come in the same value; they are drawn from the same grit and determination. It all comes from sacrifice. And when you get older, one question looms over your head at night, can I attain the same discipline?
The answer to the question remains a mystery to me. But, isn’t there just this pecuilar beauty found in this kind of devotion? This investment, you realise, is not for them but for you. What do you do with this humble offering? Will you preserve this honor or disgrace it?
There is a struggle in answering these questions because to many, your way of preserving this honor is deemed disgracful. In the haze of gossip, false advice, and unwarranted lectures, you are only left confused and ridiculed. I wanted to make sense of the horrific process my parents had to endure to provide the momentary comfort I had experienced abroad. They’re retired now, all that is left is for me to make them proud. Did I ever felt the pressure to do so? Yes, and I still do. But now, the pressure is overturned by the adrenaline of wanting to make it. Maybe it’s the Asian family-oriented teachings they had always instilled in me to blame here, but I only have one realization. There is no old money or enormous land waiting for me, my only inheritance is the same devotion; and I have to guard this forever.
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2024, Jafiyah
Filipina writer
