The Old Rattan Chairs
When I received that letter
I sat on an old rattan chair
Under the Yellow Bamboo tree
Where its leaf flyingdown on the frontyard
Of my guesthouse
And I don’t bother of whoever back and forth in front of me
I know the opening and contents sentences of word by word
Because I know her during sevenyears
Since the second years of senior high school
Till finishing the bachelor arts on Pagelaran,
The streets of Sosrowijayan, a cross to the Tugu Station, and than through
Bumijo, Gowongan kidul, till front of autocar-services
There is a house number 48, Gowongan Lor,
Leaving out of carved our breath
From the house lizard story as a symbol of could bad happens
To the realities of fact that my father were dying
At the hospital till deadly ceremony
Night before burial
I smell your aromatics cheek
And the smell of fromalin of my fathers corpse
In the silentnight
when the bell church clang in the town
and the voice grandpa Iman call to prayer
flowing in the deep of my heart
mixing with the smell of smoke incense
to stings of my chest
when my father gone
my lobe grown up in my heart
dying and love were attached each-other
when we walk to our destiny
on the seedling field
which brought in the dream
when we slept with ours-couple
that shadow always grown up in my minds
through the papers start yellow colloring
because it was a long time to settle/precipitate in my memory
always sprout to become my dreams
grown early the morning, morning, or midnightnight,
through lonelyness which hangdown on my shoulder
to bears all my trouble
while run and run
till finish line of my destiny
dedicated to Elizabeth Purwanti
Bogor,24/10/05
poem by Prasetya Utama
Added by Poetry Lover
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