Our friendships echo loud through muddled Time
And even in the darkest night, alone
The memories come alive in gentle rhyme
For all our sins, these warm ties do atone
And even though our lives now barely meet
I treasure this: no lies, no bald conceit.
#432 On Friends and Turkish Tea
After all that has been said and done
I am glad that we are still friends
Even if we only see each other
Once every few months, these days
The Turkish tea reminds us
That friendships can transcend time
And place.
#431 Tentang Malam Lara
Malam yang gelap
Mengandung duka lara
Yang tak terungkap.
#430 Tentang Penulisan Tesis
Tarian jari pada kekunci
Merangkai aksara dan wacana
Prosa tulus tanpa tekateki
Merungkai makna masa dan siapa
Menyingkap epistemi sang haiwan
Sehingga terbongkar akar makna:
Bahwa tiap makhluk dijadikan
Penuh warna panca kejadian.
#429 Tentang Sang Pekerja Asing di Klinik Kucing
Dua tangannya berurat kuat
Merangkul erat sang kucing manja
Senyum redup pada wajah kesat
Menguntum rahman pada binarnya
Mata yang sering lama terkusam
Dulu pudar, kini bercahaya
Pada hidup yang lama terkelam
Kini sinar tenang gah tersulam.
#426 On Curses
I curse you.
I curse you for the smearing of our good names.
For your insinuations.
For your callous determination, to destroy our good works.
For your cowardice, in hiding behind the veil of power
to push us off the precipice.
I curse you, in this blessed month of Ramadan.
May your aims all go awry.
May your works crumble into ash.
May your evil doings find their way back to you,
transmuted into evils committed unto you.
May the miseries you inflict on others,
be heaped unto you in series a millionfold.
I curse you, and may God curse you too.
#417 On That Poor Child
I think about him, now, sometimes
That poor, lost, lonely, saddened child
Clinging onto those broken rhymes
His life uncertain, desperate, wild
But wild, too, were his little dreams
To seek Success, and through that, Love
And now he knows, beyond what seems
Love comes when he trusts Him, Above.
#410 On Chainsaws
Even crazed chainsaw men
Would give up limb and life
To honour loved ones when
All’s at stake amidst strife
We throw the dice at Fate
To seek Salvation’s gate.
#407 On Brownshirt Tricks
You scream holy rage over socks and stews
With manufactured outrage to offend
“Defending God” as a young nation slews
Convulsed by demagogic discommend
With bloodshot eyes you rave and stamp your feet
With brownshirt tricks you thump your war-drum beat.
#406 On This Flag of Hope
I walk through Life like a Pierre Bezukhov
In search of Truth, I grope in the darkness
I ask myself if all this is enough
Each step a denial against the sadness
Through tears I vainly plant this flag of hope
That God’s own Mercy gives me will to cope.