Born of fire.

 

She came from the union of a Tausug and a Tagalog, endowed by flaming blood.

 

She studied hard in public schools, earning the wings to study in the Eagle’s nest. She left. Down from the hill.

 

The path led her to the halls that produced the greatest and worst of advocates; tyrants and martyrs, the crooks and heroes. She simply strived.

 

Her valedictory address was witnessed by the great Cardinal. The one who walked the talk.

 

She worked. Worked too hard. Her daughter’s tears flooded her dreams. Unbearable tears.

 

Once more she left privilege to pursue her mother’s path. She taught people younger than her. She taught people older than her. She taught intellectuals and scoundrels alike the noble manner of law. She taught and taught. And somehow, people listened. They listened well enough.

 

She studied in foreign lands and gained their respect. They sought to keep her for their own, a sister their equal and greater.

 

But her blood, its drops of fire, called upon her to return home.

 

At home she found her wings, and soared to the peak, to the sun. They could not touch her there. She favored neither north nor south, neither east nor west. She flew no flag of color or shade. For she was not their own. She was born of fire.

 

They clipped her wings in desperation. The culled the mountains and seas, and dove through hell to bring her down.

 

And she fell. She fell from the stars.

 

But she never hit the ground. The fire within her burned brighter still.

 

As a phoenix, she rose from the fires of tribulation, scintillating – blindingly so.

 

Now she comes to set the whole world ablaze with her fire.

 

From blood.

 

From ashes.

 

From the cross.