Rabu, 30 April 2008

Yang Terlupakan

Surya menyambutku dalam tidur lelap
Memberi warna hidup untukku terus mengukir hikmah
Dalam pencarian harapan ku mulai mencari
Mimpi yang tlah terlupakan, mimpi untukku bisa bersuara memberi nada pada dunia
yang selama ini sunyi dalam peraduan tak terjamah oleh ego manusiawi
Ketika bayangan itu datang namun hanya hitam tak beecahaya
Andai mampu ku rombak dunia
Ingin ku nodai congkaknya sang surya,
dan ku tengglamkan dalam kubangan

Agar mampu ku ulang dosa yang terlewati untuk ku hapus dari saksi tatapan surya
Suara itu memekakkan telinga
Tanpa mampu ku redam dalam himpitan ruang tak bernyawa

Namun celah itu tlah dirasuki dan menyelinap masuk mencari tempat tak bertuan

Senin, 28 April 2008

Just to Love You

When we were little,
I would share my milk with you
before we took our naps;
...just so I could play with you.

When we were teens,
I listened as you talked about your boyfriends,
(and thought of us together);
...just to ease your mind.

When we grew older,
I helped you move into his house
(and wished you were going to mine);
...just to make you comfortable.

When you got married,
I gave my best friend away
(and kept my heart hid);
...just to see you happy.

As you lay there, so very sick,
I whisper how beautiful you are
(because it's still true);
...just to see you smile.

Dreaming of the Dead

I believe, but what is belief?

I receive the forbidden dead.
They appear in the mirrors of asleep
To accuse or be comforted.

All the selves of myself they keep,
From a bodiless time arrive,
Retaining in face and shape

Shifting lineaments of alive.
So whatever it is you are,
Dear Anne, bent smilingly grave

Over wine glasses filled by your fire,
Is the whole of your life you gave
To our fictions of what you were.

Not a shadow of you can save
These logs that crackle with light,
Or this smoky image I have—

Your face at the foot of a flight
Of wrought-iron circular stairs.
I am climbing alone in the night

Among stabbing, unmerciful flares.
Oh, I am what I see and know,
But no other solid thing's there

Except for the terrible glow
Of your face and its quiet belief,
Light wood ash falling like snow

On my weaker grief.