On The Day When I Was Born
I was born within the gust of the wind,
and was raised amidst the roaring flame.
My bones were made out of clay,
and my blood, – red – run swiftly
as the water of the river bank
in the wild forest.
On the day when I was born,
they said,
the moon appeared behind the cloud,
and the tide was high.
It was the day of a good fortune, they said.
But love was forbidden,
and emotion was blind.
So life decided to beat me up,
with a wooden stick instead.
Replacing clay inside my body,
with steel – and my heart too was hardened,
as the mercury run inside my vein.
To let me live longer,
even more than the time itself.
The Invisible Race
They told us what we need to do,
to be happy.
What we have to have,
to be happy.
What we ought to be,
to be happy.
Those people,
as they keep talking about
an endless race in mind,
running around a circle.
Whispering to each other.
‘Why aren’t we there yet?’
Once I stopped and asked,
to myself to see
where are we gonna go?
what are we looking for?
A restless soul with lots of dreams,
longing for a place to call home
with a bowl of warm chicken soup,
and tea with honey.
The Puppet Show
It is called a puppet show for a reason.
And they have it performed in every season,
whenever the circus comes to town.
The puppet show in this little town I live,
could just be another useless show, I believe.
I heard those puppets all can speak,
while many of them may just squeak.
But the puppeteer, they said,
took out all voices and sounds.
So those puppets will remain silent,
with little to no words to bounce.
We cheer to them from the audience seats,
never dare to ask about the scene behind the curtains.
Whatever happened to the puppet is none of our affairs.
By then we simply continue to walk the life ahead.
Our ears are deaf, our eyes are blind.
And those puppets remain dancing in pain.
In the Arms of Cartenz
: Elsa & Lily
The pyramid was hidden,
there, behind the misty weather.
Proudly stand,
sturdy and firm, through the seasons,
challenging the sun above the clouds.
In the arms of Cartenz they both left,
with no regrets, or doubt.
I imagine them walking through an open door,
to a forest full of wonders,
where fragrant trees appear,
amongst the blinding white snow.
‘This is not the end of the journey,’ they claimed.
Sure – it’s not.
It was just a beginning
of a new adventure.
Then fly high, sail away.
Your dreams await.
And they’re even greater than tomorrow.
The Repairman
I can fix anything, young lady.
From torn fabric,
to a pair of broken shoes.
I can mend everything, my dear.
From a faulty cabling,
to a broken heart.
But you should do as I said.
And to let the magic happens,
you should keep your lips in silence.
I can shower your life with a bunch of happiness,
or glimmering gold and countless cash,
or is it true love that your heart was looking for?
You can call me the repairman.
Fixing everything, of course, I can.
Or I might be the magician.
Whatever you want to call me, Lady.
In return, it’s the youth of yours that I want.
The Repairman
I can fix anything, young lady.
From torn fabric,
to a pair of broken shoes.
I can mend everything, my dear.
From a faulty cabling,
to a broken heart.
But you should do as I said.
And to let the magic happens,
you should keep your lips in silence.
I can shower your life with a bunch of happiness,
or glimmering gold and countless cash,
or is it true love that your heart was looking for?
You can call me the repairman.
Fixing everything, of course, I can.
Or I might be the magician.
Whatever you want to call me, Lady.
In return, it’s the youth of yours that I want.
*
Writer: Dian Purnama Dewi
Editor: Kadek Sonia Piscayanti
