He Will Always Be Fourteen

Young boy, I wish your life was taken from you from the first stab. I pray that you didn’t feel the other thirty merciless wounds on your young, frail body. I only hope they taped your head after your life was taken. I wish you didn’t have to fight for your breath.

I can only wish you didn’t have to die a painful death.

I hope you didn’t suffer long. I could only hope. Because you were alone in the hands of merciless monsters. You were probably too young to understand, yet it happened to you.

And when I look at your picture, a young wounded body, head covered in tape, many faces replaces yours. Familiar faces, faces I wish I would never see on such picture.

I do not know you, and you do not know me. But in the gruesome way you went, you touched many. In the closing of your eyes, you opened many others.

Say his name. Say his name out loud and let it not be forgotten.

His name is Reynaldo de Guzman
He was a boy from Cainta, Rizal.
Yesterday, his body was found at Nueva, Ecija, with 31 stab wounds
He was fourteen years old.

He will always be fourteen.