Toast, Milk and A Poem

Terik semenjana fajar mengiring langkah nya yang centang-perenang,
Kurang tidur, kurang tidur, nelangsa sepanjang fajar.
Secangkir tubruk, sepotong roti dimakannya berlarian.
Gerah keringat mengalir bak hujan.
Hendak cari apa kah kau di gusar nya kepala,
Jika tiada tenang, hanya ganggu-ganggu kebahagiaan saja.
Mencari kehidupan, yang membuat mu mau mati saja.
Lalu lupa bahwa kalbu butuh rasa, butuh makan!
"Dasar mesin berdaging, berdarah-darah" iba manusia,
Terus menderu hingga conge di telinga bertambah.
Sik sik berisik, tambah lah tubruk nya, kerja!
Ctik ctik, duh duh sampai kapan kau tutup-tutupi?
Lihat batin mu berbisik, dengar ia meringis.
Sibaklah jendela mu, dengarlah sekali-kali,
Pandanglah cakrawala barang sedikit.
Kau hidup tiada sendiri.

Terima kasih @yvidhitama untuk artwork nya!

Jangan gegabah untuk singgah,
Itu bukanlah rumah.
Tidak ada kaca, tidak ada jendela.
Bahkan pintu saja tertutup rapat.
Jika hanya karena ia izinkan kau berteduh dari badai,
Jika hanya karena ada atap dan lantai,
Bukan berarti kau boleh tinggal.
Menyingkirlah dari sana,
Badai sudah reda!

"If you could sit on this bench and chat for one hour with anyone, past or present, who would it be?"

Dad.

On your last day I made a confession that I wrote most of my poems and created most of my paintings were all about you. I remembered how your tears dropped as I confessed in your comma, so was I.
I feel like the whole world just stopped on that time, for finally a secret admirer admitted her biggest secret to her loved one.

Then, it just stopped. With a real long silence forever.

I read a romance book, 'Perahu Kertas' if only you knew, a kind of book I definitely have never read before. But Dad I did, and there was a scene that hit the bottom of my lung and I could never actually forget. It's about Keenan, Dad, the male protagonist who lost his star of inspiration as he finished the book that his long-term friend gave him before she left Keenan without any explanations.
And I think about it every time, every night, and questioning myself 'Would I ever lost my inspiration and doing anything else but this?'

as I realized overtime, I changed my question :
'Would I ever lost my star of inspiration?'

Keenan was right, I can.

And somehow, I did lost one now.

Now the whole things just never come by to my brain like it used to be. It does not color, nor it has shape. I managed to get things together, but it was hard, the road became longer and heavier as I passed by.

I keep on saying to myself, how much I regret for not being able to show you anything you wished I would have. When I was doing it all for you, you never made it to the finished line. You were gone when I was in a peak of my speed, I stumbled hard and bleed because of it. But, I keep on running after all, beneath the shadow of my regret with your silhouette above my head.

I miss you, If I never had a chance to say it, I do.

You are all the words, the papers, the paints and the arts I always made. You are the daydream and the nightmare everything at once I wished I always have. And all of the sudden, it just paused. I used to say that I never wanted to be like you, and you furiously asked me why did I say that and I never have guts to answer. Because instead of to be like you, I want to have you. The piece of my puzzles to complete the incompletion. We are completely different kind, Dad, but with you I am a whole. And now, you are the missing piece, the hole to a whole. Since that, I never believe in similarity, the connection is what makes us together.

Dad, I miss you when I breathe, I miss you in a crowd, I miss you in my lonesome, I miss you in every ramens, every coffees, every crossroads, every driveways and every places we used to hung out together. I couldn't say it to anyone, it is hard, really hard. Somehow I still wish you sit there on your wheelchair, waiting for me in front of the door and asked my how was my day. I still wish you are the one who I asked what to eat for dinner. I still wish you are in the middle of the road, inside every morning buses, on the sidewalk of Sudirman, or maybe still inside that car to pick me up from work or school or wherever. You will be there, standing tall with your wide arms open and lead me to the car to drive me home or take me out for meals, you always had a really good taste over foods, and you always let me sleep along way home.

After 17 years you treated me as as your darling, the world forced me to become a knight 4 years after. I hated it really. I didn't know who to blame and who would listen anyway, so I made it through, without you even if you were still present. Becoming an adult when you just 17 was crazy, I had to be everything. I got jealous sometimes, to most of everyone who were still able to hung out and cling over their dads normally on social media for the last 4 years. We still did, but it was hard, I got mad over you sometimes and you got mad over me too because I seemed to not be able to took care of you. I couldn't accept the fact, that you were not you anymore. I had miss you even before you died, for four years, I always had been longing for you.

Every talk about my dad this and my dad that from everyone was something that I had to avoid. Managed to capture my dream and to still have you in this world was never been easy. I had to make it before you go, that's what I used to believe. You are the real motivation why I become like this. I got misunderstood a lot, even until now. They see me as a living machine, ambitious, cold-hearted girl who work hard for everything. Little did they know Dad, I was doing this on purpose. To make you proud, to achieve it with both of your eyes. Just like everyone else. But, yes, I am not like everyone apparently.

You told me one mantra that I would never forget, "burn the fire in your heart, and never let it dead." And somehow it has never been dead since you gave me that, it burns, it goes out, and burn again like hell. We lit different kind of flame dad, but we shine beautifully. It was hard to proof you my true color, it was hard to made you believe in the fire I created. You never ask me to let it dead, instead you want me to proof how bright it can be. Again, you never made it when I have finally scorched the world that used to burn me down the sea. Because of you, because of the fire you gave me.

But, hey Dad. I am glad you did it your way. When you finally reached your final curtain, there are no regrets left in your face, you have lived the life that is full, you have traveled each and every highways. You did your life the way you wanted to have, your way. Yes, I just slipping a bit of My Way lyrics into this phrases, the song you used to sing everywhere, in most of the weddings you used to attended. You may never sing it in mine later, nor even when I passed by your room every night I go back home. But I am surely believe, this song, described your whole life better than anything. We might be different, but we are connected in music we used to love. Thank you, because of that I always feel connected to you every time I listen to our songs we used to sing together.

To the love of my life, to all the love that I need, to flaming fire in my heart; Thank you, I will never stop for anything but you. See you!