Saat Malam Jatuh dan Hanya Ada Kau

:Q

Malam jatuh,
berguguran di balik jendela mobilmu
Di hadapanku laut luas tak kulihat tepinya
Di tanganku segenggam jemarimu
berbisik pelan tak akan tanggal

Aku penuhi dadaku dengan udara
Dan kita melompat,
tenggelam cepat dalam jantung yang debur.
Lebur.
Berdua.

Jakarta, Oktober 2017

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Sebelum Tidur

: Q

aku memikirkanmu setiap malam di bawah langit-langit kamarku yang gelap
aku mengucapkan rindu padamu yang tidur di balik bilik pikiranku

kau pulas
dan satu per satu napasmu jatuh di telingaku

aku ingin memelukmu
namun yang kupunya hanya sepasang lengan yang tak tahu cara menjangkaumu
aku ingin mengusap punggungmu ketika mimpi buruk tiba
namun kecemasan satu-satunya benda yang kugenggam

maka, bangunlah engkau esok pagi-pagi sekali
dan temukan aku yang memandang wajah tidurmu dari mata puisi

ceritakan padaku bagaimana rasanya menjadi kau yang setiap waktu kucintai
ceritakan padaku bagaimana cara terlelap dan belajar bermimpi
agar aku dapat tidur dan membangunkanmu sebuah rumah perlindungan di mimpiku,
tempat kau bebas bertanam bunga tanpa harus cemas mereka akan bilang apa.

jakarta, september 2017

Cita-cita

Cita-citaku tak lebih tinggi dari pohon, hanya hidup bahagia berteman senyummu di hari senja.
Juga tak pernah lebih teduh dari rimbun dedaunannya, sebab dadaku kadang didih diseduh cemburu.

Cita-citaku hanya sejauh batang pohon yang merelakan dirinya jadi lembaran kertas tempatku menuliskanmu tiap kali diserang rindu.
Cita-citaku seperti pohon: Untuk diam-diam tak berpindah dan tak pernah lupa mengingatmu.

Ditulis pada November 2014, ditemukan kembali bulan Mei 2017.

hidup kembali

aku merasakan sebagian dari diriku hidup kembali
pada pagi hari itu
di depan wajahmu dan di genggam tanganmu

aku merasakan jantung berdetak kembali
pulang dari kedalaman kesunyian di gelap rongga dada
darah perlahan terpompa
ke mataku, ke tanganku, ke pipiku

dan aku tersenyum
mudah tertawa dan ingin tidur lekas dan bangun lebih cepat
aku ingin segera melihatmu bicara
aku ingin memastikan apa kau nyata

aku merasakan sebagian diriku terjaga lagi
untuk mengingat-ingat rupa lenganmu, suara langkah-langkahmu, cara matamu menemukanku di tengah lautan manusia

aku seperti terlahir kembali
pada pagi hari itu
bersama matahari dan riuh-rendah pengunjung bandara
sambil terus bertanya kenapa bisa

jakarta, maret 2017

I have my father behind me

On this International Women’s Day, I wanna thank one person for making me who I am now: my father.

I hear and read words, comments, social media posts about how women should behave, should act, about devilish and scary career-women or useless stay-at-home ones.

But what my father has been teaching me all this time is how to be a badass woman and how a great man should act.

I always remember what he said when I was still very young, that because I am a woman, I will usually have a weaker body compared to a man so that I have no other option than to be smart.

He always put my education first. I was not allowed to skip classes as far as I could. Although he was busy working, he managed to help me with my homework (he was pretty cool at social science!) when my mother could not, turned the television off when my study time came. He even took a leave and accompanied me during my first day at college, telling me to never be intimidated by and get scared of my seniors because they were actually not always that cool and smart. Hahahaha.

Coming from a farmer family in a small village in East Bali, it is a big pride for my father to be able to finish college and work as a law enforcer. Given the background, he once told me that if he could get his bachelor degree, then I should get at least a master or I should be ashamed of myself.

He encourages me to pursue higher education, so how could strangers tell me the otherwise?

My father told me that a woman had to be independent despite her marital status. A woman must empower herself, building her career if she works and continuing to enrich her knowledge while taking the best care of her family if she stays at home.

A woman should not be powerless so why should I buy the otherwise?

My father is also a kind of man who happily does domestic works.

When I was in school, I often found my father and mother, who is a stay-at-home mom, washed our clothes together at five in the morning. He sets a rule at home that everyone must wash their own dishes after using them and he never leaves his dirty dishes at the kitchen sink.

He also cooks. Sometimes he does not allow my mother to help, partly because he thinks he cooks some food better than her. Hahaha. But he does! And my mother is happy too because she can take some time to relax or do other things.

My father shows me that men and women can share duties. So, why do I let strangers tell me the otherwise?

My father listens to what I say, encourages me to speak my mind up, to be logical, to be critical, to be brave and aiming high. Why should I do the otherwise?

I know my father is my privilege, especially in this situation when several men see women as nothing but complementary objects. Yes, I use the word “object” because I lose count of how many times we are compared to candies, fruits or any other goods for no good.

My father has set the bar high and I have no plan to lower it.

So, happy International Women’s Day! May we all be braver, stronger, tougher and happier in everything we do. Everything.

Jakarta
March 8, 2017.

silver hair

you silver hair
i can help you counting them
reminiscing time you’ve gone through,
all the sweets and bitters, years and tears

your black and silver hair
a harmonious crown of a king
an old soul’s wisdom
the heart beats igniting sunbeams after a long winter

they’re dancing with the wind,
your silver hair on a Sunday morning,
not hiding, not hidden
painting you a humble look, effortlessly,
amid those golds and glitters

i wonder how much the time loves you
since your silver hair is the best thing age can do
you grow older but livelier
kinder and happier
fulfilled and content

your silver hair
i can’t help myself from thinking
that growing old is a gift
knowing you make it matters

January 2017

a late post adressed to you

it’s painful seeing “It’s (your name) birthday today!” on my Facebook notification in the morning of my birthday so i decided to unfriend you.

although I didn’t see such a notification again this year, still my mind came across to you, to how our just-fine relation turned sour — a thing i can’t tell why until now.

some people around me sometimes still talk about you, waking up a dead man from his grave called memory. and i’ll just take some peanuts and munch them or sip my wine, swallowing all the pain.

your presence fades away as the time goes by but i never have the gut to say that i’ve moved on because i don’t always have peanuts or a glass of wine near me to help me digesting all the shakes in my muscles and groans in my tummy every time a thought of you visits me or is brought to me by friends, tv shows or (your) colleagues.

the memories of you are kept at the corner of my brain. they’re dusty, seldom revisited as days and deadlines successfully make me busy. but i can’t say i’ve forgotten you because that particular bus stop i sometimes pass by has the view of your office tower and before i can stop it, my mind has already started guessing what are you doing now.

details about you evaporate layer by layer but i find out that they’re still hanging in the air when my ojek passes by a roasted chicken food-stall where we once had lunch and i watched you patiently slice your steak into pieces before eating it. i just found out, years after the day, how far the place is from the airport, the destination where you would drive me to that afternoon.

thoughts of you sometimes pop up in my mind when i see a signboard of a securities firm, whose name bears yours, near a place where i usually have events to cover. but sometimes i was just running late so i didn’t have a chance to land even a glance to the signboard and your ghost didn’t visit me at the time.

beside the time, living in the city might also heals the wounds as special things and places become common things and places if i see them on a regular basis.

and now, as we’re close to the end of january, i will have no reason to think about you anymore (and i should be thankful about that) for the rest of the year. we’re walking our different paths, so close yet so far away, keeping them out of crossing each other so lives can go on.

finally, allow me to wish you happiness, peacefulness.

and happy birthday.

jakarta, january 2017