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The document is titled "I Am a Filipino" by Carlos P. Romulo. It describes the author's identity as a Filipino and the inheritance passed down through generations. The blood of Filipinos is descended from ancient Malayan pioneers who braved the sea to settle the new land. Their immortal legacy includes the heroic deeds of Lapulapu, Lakandula, Diego Silang, and Dagohoy who rebelled against foreign oppressors. This same legacy of fighting for freedom and defending their homeland continues to inspire modern Filipinos like Jose Rizal, Bonifacio, del Pilar, Luna, and Quezon. The author pledges to prove worthy of this inheritance by continuing

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John Mark Fernandez Danlag
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78 views2 pages

Creative Writing

The document is titled "I Am a Filipino" by Carlos P. Romulo. It describes the author's identity as a Filipino and the inheritance passed down through generations. The blood of Filipinos is descended from ancient Malayan pioneers who braved the sea to settle the new land. Their immortal legacy includes the heroic deeds of Lapulapu, Lakandula, Diego Silang, and Dagohoy who rebelled against foreign oppressors. This same legacy of fighting for freedom and defending their homeland continues to inspire modern Filipinos like Jose Rizal, Bonifacio, del Pilar, Luna, and Quezon. The author pledges to prove worthy of this inheritance by continuing

Uploaded by

John Mark Fernandez Danlag
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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I Am a Filipino

By: Carlos P. Romulo

I am a Filipino- inheritor of the glorious past, hostage to the


uncertain future. As such I must prove equal to a two-fold-task- the
task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of
performing my obligation to the future.

I am sprung from a hardy race, child of many generations


removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the
memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting
out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over
the sea, I see them come, borne upon the bellowing wave and the
whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope- hope in the
free abundance of the new land that was to be their home and their
children’s forever.

I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes-


seed that flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and
defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent
Lapulapu to battle against the first invader of this land, that nerved
Lakandula in the combat against the alien foe, that drove Diego
Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.

That seed is immortal. It is self-same seed that flowered in the


heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of
shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit
deathless forever, the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio
in Balintawak, of Gregorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at
Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of
Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst fourth royalty again in
the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the
threshold of ancient Malacanan Palace, in the symbolic act of
possession and racial vindicaton.

The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of


my manhood, the symbol of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds
that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousand
years ago, it shall grow and flower bear fruit again. It is the insignia
of my race, and my generation is but a in the unending search of my
people for freedom and happiness.

I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I


give that I may prove worthy of my inheritance? I shall give the
pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries,
and it shall be compounded of joyous cries of my Malayan forebears
when first they saw the contours of this land loom before their eyes,
of the battle cries that have resounded in every field of combat from
Mactan to Tirad Pass, of the voices of my people when they sing:

Land of the morning,


Child of the sun returning-

Ne’er shall invaders


Trample thy sacred shore.
Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the
heartstrings of sixteen million people all vibrating to one song, I
shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge. Out of the songs of the
farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields, out of the
sweat of the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-lig and Koronadal, out of
the silent endurance of stevedores at piers and the ominous
grumbling of peasants in Pampanga, out of the first cries of babies
newly born and the lullabies that mother sing, out of the crashing of
gears and whine of turbines in the factories, out of the crunch of
plough-shares upturning the earth, out of the limitless patience of
teachers in the classrooms and doctors in the clinics, out of the
tramp soldiers marching, I shall make pattern of my pledge:

“I am Filipino born to freedom, and I shall not rest until


freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance- for myself and
my children and my children’s children- forever.”

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