By Komang Ira Puspitaningsih
1
God is the words
spoken by prophets
It is for that reason
through prayer and mantras
I explore my woman
A girl in dream’s silence
a dancer in the rain
at the river’s end
Your fingers tremble when scaling the rainbow
a constant arch after the last rain shower
(An unending tapestry of color
digested by caterpillars
to become the hue of a butterfly’s wings)
The gleam in your eyes is the torch of life
which even when dim
emits a strong glow
instilling silence
in the chambers of my heart
dissolving the blood clot
so long ago frozen
I then sink inside
the nest of your hair
to nestle in the softness of your skin
2
Suppose the world
I found for your barren self
A nomad in a far-away land
your face is a thorn
touching my pure cheek
Unintentionally
you wound me with love
upon which we intentionally cast salt
to feel the pleasurable sting that comes with the pain
And then with sunlight we melt the frost
with sunshine we bask in the pleasure
of dark conversations
between the trembling of night
and the soft glimmer of stars
3
To you for whom my longing has never dampened
to you for whom I cannot parry the gnawing pain
did you write a poem for me
spell out my name
or chart the future course
of our children?
Because forever
in movement and actions
I store your image
and long for the time
that has grown blue in my hand
I simply expunge the remaining words
left as debris
to be burnt in the fluorescence of your mien
With our fingers we chat
about spiders
spinning their webs
or signs of the weather
and planting seasons
And then your lips
with my lips
become the foam that fills the waves
4
Are there no butterflies
on the way home?
Our friend goes home
before the cries of the baby waiting there
have yet to compete with the chirp of crickets
and the hooting of owls at night
5
This love is
a miniature kite
made from jackfruit leaves,
an unsteady plaything for the wind
which we forever must watch
to make sure the thin thread to which it’s tethered
is not broken by sorrow
And then I imagine you calling
again and again
our mischievous kids
who have stayed out too late playing with kites
and in the deep of night, you singing them a lullaby
containing the thousands of longings
mired in the memory of your own past
and tales of the gods,
eternal legends
that have passed down through time
6
Because God is the words
spoken by prophets
Through seclusion and meditation
I recompose the course of my life
and yours too
Because so many trees
have fallen from the wind’s force
and so many ferries have floundered
and drowned by the river’s flow
This love is
a miniature kite
made from a jackfruit leaf.
Let it be the wind’s plaything
without being challenged by the flow
And we will always watch over it
making sure its small line
is not broken by despair