History burns like a candle. Left unshielded, flickering to its death. Left unguarded, falling as prey to thieves.
When the flame snuffs out, all there’s left is a distorted version, lingering in the dark spaces between the lies spoken by those who sit in power.
Last October 2024, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. signed Proclamation No. 727, changing the status of February 25, the EDSA People Power Revolution Anniversary, from a special non-working holiday to a special working day.
To the innocent eyes, this small alteration seems like a harmless declaration directed to decrease the days of a long weekend. However, in the eyes of oppressed individuals, it is a subtle move to inflict insult against the country’s sovereignty.
Through a single signature, this calculated calendar update rings louder. It entails a silent move to dilute the value of the EDSA People Power Revolution, the movement itself which overthrew his late father, Ferdinand Marcos Sr. ‘s, iron grip rule in 1986.
To preserve the past, EDSA should remain a national holiday. By reducing its value into a simple “observance,” the Marcos administration fosters historical amnesia that facilitates the manipulation of historical narratives to serve their political agenda.
For the younger generations that did not witness the historic four-day uprising, the lack of proper commemoration to take a break, reflect, and honor it weakens their resolve to this critical moment.
Without a day set aside for a proper memorial, history is slowly erased bit by bit until all there’s left is a faint whisper spoken on the dark streets.
When this happens, the truth becomes negotiable at the discretion of the elites.
The struggle for democracy goes beyond fighting in the streets of EDSA—it is waged inside the classrooms, in public discourse, in the unwillingness to forget.
With each silent move of revision, history is distorted, dimming its flame to nothing more than just a flicker in the wild.
History burns like a candle against the tides of time. Passed down from one generation to the next, its flames dim under the heavy air of neglect.
When the last flame fades, the serpents feast on its charred remains until all there’s left is a fossilized relic buried under the graveyard of deception.
Remember, the blood of our ancestors run deep within our veins. To rewrite history means to sever them. To let go of the past means to break faith with them.
When the candle blows out and shots are fired, will we close our eyes and let the dark void of deception reign? Or will we rise above the ruined rubbles of oppression and take our final stand as keepers of the old flame?
