"Dalam segala manis dan tragisnya perkawinan,
Kami sebagai perempuan, mati berkali-kali
Dan lahir pula kembali—
Tentu juga berkali-kali

Disaat kau menyaksikan puluhan katup bibir yang mengatakan “Sah.”
Disaat itu pula,
Kau seakan disadarkan
Bahwa kau tak lebih dari pisau yang harus terus diasah

Bukan supaya tajam untuk dapat menikam,
Namun supaya siap mencacah manis-pahitnya peristiwa kehidupan menjadi dadu-dadu kecil
Lalu menanyakan untuk menyerapnya kembali
Untuk diri sendiri

Kau,
Mati dan lahir lagi,
Bukan sebagai isteri,
Namun seutuhnya sebagai wanita yang mengayomi
Sampai akhirnya kematian itu berdiri di depan pintu
Untuk menjemputmu lagi

Disaat kau duduk dan melihat pandangan puluhan manusia
Yang seakan-akan mengatakan,
“Berpandailah dengan urusan dapur.”
Mereka dengan bodohnya menutup mata kepada fakta

Bahwa sekarang, kau adalah busur
Yang dengan senantiasa akan mengarahkan kemana anak-anak panahmu melaju
Kau, bertulang rusuk dan adalah tulang rusuk
Bukan tulang rusuk dari lanangmu,
Namun dari rumah segala rumah

Disaat insan keci itu menangis lahir,
Disitulah Tuhan dengan segala kuasa-Nya menyemukakanmu
Dengan kelahiran yang absolut.
Mutlak. Nyata. Tanpa majas atau embel-embel.

Kau, bukan hanya wanita bersusu yang menyusui;
Walau serapanmu terhadap puji-kejinya kehidupan
Akan juga diserap oleh ‘anak panah’ mu
Melalui air susu dan tutur katamu

Disaat kau melahirkan anak manusia,
Tentunya tanpa tanda tanya,
Kau betul-betul
Lahir kembali."

You have walked down the path of soul-searching for far too long my dear woman
You have thereupon tasted sin in that of poisonous water
And in that of the flesh of men
And in that of the flesh of women
And in that of tears of whom gave birth to you
And in that of disappointment you have caused to the only man you have so much loved

Now my dear,
Tell me
What is it that you found?

~

I have not find
But I have only learned
That it is about time I get to know You

~

I have known you since you were sleeping
Silently and unagitated to what there is to life
And that was when you were in the womb of your mother
Its warmth enveloped your paper-thin skin
And her heart was beating synchronously to yours
And both of your soul and body coexisted

When you left the comfort of the greatest
And the warmest thing of motherhood
You came into the world crying
Your skin red
Your lips the contrasting colour
White as the cleanest sheet
You now existed at and on your own body
Small—but bold and vulnerable
Like that of the most expensive glass

You cried
Because you are on your own

When you grow
I have known you even better
Closer but farther
So dear and so true
I am not watching you
I am rooting for you

~

I have sinned but I have learned
I have cried and I have hurt
I have taught and be taught
I have lost only to be found

The second I kneeled
Upon the heat of the thick but delicate sheet
I have remembered
That none of the things in this existing life
Belongs to me
But are rather
given to me

I have been missing You for far too long.

Dear Mother,
Where should I start?
Should it be those sleepless nights
Where you sit on our porch and cried?
Or should it be the rage I shouted,
that once grew us apart?

I now have the moon on my body,
and every time it casts back from the mirror
It reminds me of the early nights
You read me stories to bed,
Or the nights you cried of Father
Or the nights you were being so humanely,
beautifully,
difficult

I have yet to hand you anything in return
And none of the things I have passed on to you
Will even up half of what you have sacrificed
And though you deserve those beyond what I can give,
Please know that every piece of my writings,
Have a projection of you in it



Thank you for the love and pain.

The night comes,
One is to sit on the other side of the bed she calls home
But what she did not know
Was that when the phone rings,
She was one second away to hearing
The rooted and raspy voice
That unmistakably sounds like home.

Exhaustive conversation exchanged,
The night changes
Words of wisdom penetrates
Did she see it coming?
God has once again made His magic
For all of that was true when the sky is blue,
What do I have to lose?

A man and a woman is to uphold three arches in life
These were made for them to grow
And only to grow
He says,
Love, (inner) peace, faith
These echo in swift motion to the back of her head
For the man whose voice sounds in harmony to what she calls home continues,

Faith my friend,
Most often than not,
Comes last
Do believe
And believe
And believe!
For it is the only thing we can do to unlock

She sat still,
What else is there to unlock?
Is it not enough of pain which has already been unfolded?
Is it not enough of sin?
Is it not enough of misjudgment?
Of seeing the light not in the morning
But in the darkest of tunnel?

It is the freedom, my love
It is your freedom
She could hear the sound of his fingers
Teasing atop his piano—
That has already become his friend
But what she saw was his fingers atop of her body,
For how his enlightened language sounded like making love

Who are you?
They asked of each other
A man
A woman
An artist
A musician
A writer

They did not know,
That when the line hang up,
Another line is to come
And so is the jolting,
Electrifying exchange of words of wisdom
of the two smallest people who felt the biggest
Giving birth to music that once again sounds like making love

There are fragments of my faulty presence that I wish could be forgiven for
As much as there are obsolete memories,
altering theirselves into agonising keepsakes

The trails I have been trying to erase
The past that I thought I've left on the rearview
The hurting
The fear
The abuse

I have been waking up in the morning
Pretending to forget that these throbbing occurrences are all that I am made of
This is not discontent
This is wound

I remember voices
The voices I've known all too well
I was so little
Accustomed to the sound of TV outside my room

A year or so
The TV was never on anymore
And so dinner was no longer served
And Mother was no longer sleeping
And Father was no longer home

Growing up
I've come to realised that things
Just like persons,
They were also able to grow apart

There was the night which remained the longest
The bed have never felt any bigger
And Lord,
Have I ever felt any lesser

It was three a.m.
I called out
Reaching for Mother
Even I remembered how I sounded

"Where are you?"
There was a split second of the most exhausting silence
Until I heard her distraught voice on the other line
"I am looking for my husband."

That night have changed any other nights
And I have been living with the constant pain
Of having felt that you lost something great
When you never actually had it

I had my years of continual dejections
Until now,
I am still learning on how I should stop feeling like I am in pieces
I don't need anyone
Trying to remind me why I am this way

I’m in the process of continuously damaging and re-creating myself.

To destroy is to re-create.

I have walked across many paths and heard someone said,
“You are not solely a body.”

To which I replied
“A body is just a body after all.”

The fact that I have tolerated myself to let things happened to my body keeps me up for three nights.

What went upon this body is my control.

I want to let people know that my body does not hurt them.

My body does not hurt me.

It is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

By avoiding my own body is damaging my own body.

By accepting my body and all sublime occurrences which have happened to it, I am faithful to my own body.

And after a long time of bewilderment,

I was wrong.

A body is not just a body after all.

I have a body which bears madness, insanity, affection, hurricane within.

A body is not just a body after all.