Perihal Renjana

Jika dipandang lekat-lekat
Rinduku hanya gulana di ujung tanduk
Selayaknya ombak yang menderu dan melebur
Aku tidak menampik ia menjadi agung
Pasrah saat ia mengukuhkanku sebagai inangnya
Demi tetap hidup dan membiru dalam diriku

Lalaiku yang sering tak menguncinya
Membuatnya kerap kali enyah ke masa lampau
Menebas dan merasuk menuju jantung memori paling terjal
Kedua kaki kotornya akan merebahkan diri
Pada reminisensi yang sepantasnya diabaikan
Yang sekarang menjadi keruh
Namun malar terasa penuh

Misfit

Under the coastline summer sun, a man stood still. His sweat has grown cold, soaking his white linen shirt. He gulped down the murky water he keeps inside a bottle he carries around his neck. Unsavory taste filled his throat but he has no choice. It’s either the murky water or letting dehydration nonchalantly kills him. It’s been months (or even a year, he lost count of the time) since he seeks solace between the melancholy mountains and packed cities. He likes to call himself a rolling stone, because that’s what people like to call him. It sounds endearing. At least better than lost. Like now, for example; he’s stuck as the sunlight gnawing his golden skin before he started to chase mirages.
_______________________________________________________________
He knows it wasn’t real. But his weary steps choose to keep going to a home sweet home. A house filled with lilts and hymns. It is, at least for him, much better than finding an oasis or cavern to sleep in.

He knows it wasn’t real. But is it wrong – for a spur of a moment – to believe in it?

His eyes full of despair; somersaulting to come to someone who no longer afraid to embrace his fears and misery. On his ear they’ll whisper;

“Come closer, fighter. It is time to heal your wounds.”

_______________________________________________________________
The obscure moon irradiates his face when he snapped back to reality. Removed from the all the ritz and glitz, he gets back on his feet. He soon finds himself walking around in a daze; trying to find anything else to consume besides the murky water. He’s been cynical about life and maybe it should stay like that. For his life is nothing but the murky water he brought all along. But for a glimpse of a second he almost,

kind of,

close to,

nearly,

believe that I was not a delusion. That he didn’t leave the home that no longer whole. That he’s not misplaced. That he isn’t a strange man in a strange land.

Fuzzy, Fuzzy

The road is subtle
No potholes, not even eroded
The sky has been benign
No hazy rear view window or eye-blinding headlights
The vehicle works well too
So tell me, honey,
Why does the journey feels so bumpy?

Fragmen Malam Purnama

Satu-persatu pakaian kami tanggal
Tersisa pikiran yang dibalut nista
Dan tanpa tergesa ia tenggelam
Hanyut dalam diriku serupa nikmat yang profan

Raungmu tersengal
Sisi gelapmu perlahan tersingkap
Menarik dan menghardik
Mengutukku layaknya karunia surga

Dua dura lalu melebur
Menunggalkan dua nama jadi satu
Menyempitkan celah antara dahaga
Dan tubuh milik masing-masing

Kemudian hujanku menjelma rintik
Dan badai di jantungmu
Merekah menjelma fajar