"Enjoy the city", we said
before we left her in the city gate.
She came this morning
with the firm blow of Eden's wind.
She brought no tale of fame and fortune,
thus we only gave her an empty glass
and a bottle of red wine.
By night,
she attended the party we held.
She met us one by one.
A beautiful painting, she demanded,
but none of us had such thing.
Hence, she went away;
The party went on.
By dawn,
the crowd was about to disperse when she appeared.
She poured down the wine to the solid ground.
In a blink, emptiness struck.
....
There was only silence.
And the sky split open.
We ran.
We ran for shelter, we ran for our lives.
Thousands of words fell from the rising sun:
a rain of cursed anthem.
Under a concrete roof we stood,
bare witness the collapse of our benign woods.
By now, it's all gone.
No more sky scrapers, no more luxurious hall.
Houses had turned into ashes.
Shining arrows are every where.
....
Some how, we feel no sadness nor sorrow.
We're not terrified, not hurt.
It is just
empty.
We stare at her,
the lady we ignored.
She stands still, with her empty glass.
She kisses the glass, turns her back on us,
and leaves.
"Are we the ones who invited her?"
we ask our selves, before the remaining of the city gate,
before a beautiful painting.
(Jum'at, 16 Oct 2009, mesjid Nurul Ilmi, Padang)
picture source: personal collection
