The quiet passion of the first two “suites”—as the poet calls them—segues into the anger of the third suite, the last becoming contrapuntal to the thesis that everyday objects—a tree, ants, a wheelbarrow, a look—can be a source of profound learning about how it is to be human. The third suite is political, of course, detailing the inchoate rage evoked by the untrammeled killings of the alleged drug war. The three suites together are a testimony to the poet’s range of concerns and emotive responses—such range being almost mandatory in the confusing days of the joy and tragedy of being Filipino. —Ninotchka Rosca
Joel Vega’s poetry cuts to the gut of a nation living through the nightmare of a corrupt and violent regime, carried on, ironically enough, under the frail shelter of the mosquito net. We ask of the poet clarity of vision, courage, and unyielding honesty, his words to speak to or for a people dumbed by deceit, ignorance and fear. Vega speaks in words we could have uttered ourselves, as we fumble for redemption in the sagging horizon of our future. Poems to read now. Poems to keep for all time.
—Merlie M. Alunan