What’s growing up? Elders told me to change Told me that I should take care of myself Arrange my mind Repair my broken heart and soul
What’s growing up? Motivator and self-development books told me to step out of the comfort zone Should I swim across the ocean? Should I jump from 160-floors building? I don’t think I need to enter the dangerous zone cause it already came on my way
What’s growing up? If my age and mentality don’t match at all I refuse to be called “little kid”, but my mentality says otherwise
How far the distance between my goals and the place I stand stiil? My growth became the bridge that connects them But, I can’t count how far I take a step cause I don’t care about the distance I’ll crawl, walk or run, whatever I want No matter how far
Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be liked because it doesn’t need many reasons to be liked or disliked Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be understood because it doesn’t need many theories to be understood or just to be enjoyed Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be praised because it realizes that its existence may attract humiliation
Don’t want to be liked Don’t want to be understood Don’t want to be praised It just wants life and freedom in a poem where it doesn’t need to be bound to commas and dots even you have freedom to interpret it as you want to be as long as it has a chance to live once again
A friend told me that she’d be a secret code. Whether it’s a number, letter or picture. She told me that she’d be a mystery, even though it’s difficult, but interesting to guess and solve.
A friend told me that she’d be a wanderer. Whether a wanderer in her own world or in others world. She told me that she couldn’t endure and stay for a long time in a place that remembered her about her past. “Too much wounds”, she replied.
A friend told me that she’d be a poem. She didn’t want to be a secret code because it’s too difficult for her. She didn’t want to be a wanderer because it’s too exhausting for her. Finally, she decided to be a poem so that she could hide the other side of her behind letter, space, words even commas and dots.
But, I don’t want to be a secret code, wanderer or poem. I want to be me with all the mysteries, past and wounds that shaped me to be someone who you know today.
That night, we tried to talk each other You told me about a long dry season that never meet rain about the southern wind that scattered the leaves, littering the yard meanwhile I started raving about longing that lost its pier and the past memories that I don’t know how long they haven’t been touched
Forth week of October Heat met another heat evaporate our conversations in the night that lost its coolness just left the questions that keep in our heart
“This isn’t our usual conversations” and we were silent for a long time in the silence that I couldn’t understand anymore
*) Note : I posted some of my poems collection here as a special edition on achievement of 100 poems I posted on WordPress. I only choose 3 poems that used to be highlight and they’re my most favorite poem that I’ve ever written. The other reason why I only choose 3 because I’m tired to translate them into English haha XD (I wrote them in Indonesian, so, I just want to share some of them to foreign friends here). And if you’re Indonesian, you can check the original article on the link that I put above.
Here, there’s no color change in December Trees still have their green leaves Rose still has its red River and lake aren’t frozen Just the sky which looks more greyish
She’s tired of hearing the curse which released by the uncontrolled emotions in the house, in the office, in the streets when the horn was beeped together by the impatients driver who stuck at the traffic and blazing daylight
She was moved to the rhythm of the rain after waiting in the longing room during long dry season
If the sound of rain is a song, then she wants this song played in her head when her lips are unable to sing a song of sadness anymore
Yogyakarta, December 8th, 2019-08.37 p.m. -after the heavy rain-