"kolam" poems
Jam tujuh pagi tadi Ibu mengetuk pintu
Bunyi ketukan itu sampai empat kali terulang
Di ketukan empat setengah,
Pintu terbuka setengah juga
“Ya?”
“Mandi, Mbak.”
“Pingin tidur lagi.”
“Tapi hari ini hari kemenangan.”
Raut wajahnya yang telah menjadi warisanku tak sedikitpun menunjukkan bahwa dia telah memenangkan apapun.
Tidak seperti kebanyakan orang,
Untuknya hari ini bukanlah tentang seberapa kental kolam santan yang menyimbahi santapan-santapan
Bukan juga tentang berpeluk-rindu dengan orang-orang sambil sesekali bertukar kabar
Lelah mengutuk dirinya karena seumur hidup merasa kalah,
Aku tahu bahwa sehari saja ia ingin merasa menang.
Ia sendiri tahu betul saat hari ini berakhir dan tamu berpamit untuk pulang setelah semua habis terkunyah; ia akan kembali merasa kalah.
Menang atas dan untuk apa?
Seribu kata maaf pun ia telan begitu saja tanpa mencerna kata tersebut keluar dari mulut siapa
Tanpa adanya hari kemenangan yang dibanjiri oleh teks bersampul maaf,
Hidupnya memang sudah tentang meminta maaf dan memaafkan
Tak ada pilihan lain.
Hanya saja hari ini sinar sendu wajahnya menunjukkan bahwa akhirnya,
Setidaknya untuk dia,
Harapan pahitnya terhadap ‘maaf dan memaafkan’ akan diselebrasikan;
Dan seperti dirinya, lebih dari sejuta orang akan melakukannya walaupun untuk sehari saja.
Kepada siapa lagi ia harus meminta maaf dan meminta dimaafkan?
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
Most households wake up early this month.
The cold breeze and lighted streets testimony to the winter month.
Young and old woman wake up,
Open their doors and wash the entrance clean with water. Then they draw an elaborate kolam also called dot designs.
Every household will have a kolam, designs perfect and symmetrical.
On the wet ground the white rice powder design add aesthetics to the homes.
As one wanders in the cold, the temples come alive with music, the bells ring in harmony and houses welcome the margazhi month with kolams and festivities.
It is one of the best times of the year where every household celebrate the year beginning with colours and festivities.
The kolams add life and vibrancy to homes. Harboring a hope for good things to come.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
(slaves)
we are a conquered people
but we walk freely as servants
our masters are not at peace
for they know what they do
yet before us they stand
as we weep for our loss
or exult over our victory
and though they are of Caesar
we give that which is God
(supper)
we wash in the headwaters
the water that cleanses my soul
we harvest the vineyards
the wine that became my blood
we cast seeds into the fields
the bread that is my body
we listen to their promises
but a voice became the word
we cannot speak of the image
the ritual looks not upon idols
(kolam)
she made chalk from rice fields
all are invited except evil spirits
lines and circles for prosperity
tomorrow another will be drawn
(death)
is there injustice
speak to me
purify myself
non-violence
until the bullet says no more
(resurrection)
she drew two needles
two needles that cross
two needles that mend
the eyes cast no stone
(desire)
they wear only robes
all desire has passed
the moon guides them
upon waters with no home
(pilgrimage)
seven circles against time
kissing and touching stone
prayers where they stand
drink water from the well
(incorporeal)
how to describe the ocean
to a baby that cannot swim
when we cannot see the edge
nor all that lives within its womb?
all we can do is reap its harvest
by drawing fish in the sand
removing them from the nets
and from baskets made full
(love)
no heaven can accept my sin
no hell can accept my goodness
i can only tell you how I feel
though what I see is you
and what I know is me
you have become like the stars
as beautiful and distant
as grace is to a man like me
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 10:11 PM UTC