A Drop Of Broken Dew On The Tip
Softening that
gaze, breaking into the dim moon
Not time yet,
the whisper of wind spreads slowly
Not time yet, to
sing geguritan
Not time yet,
the longing to live on the edge of the abyss
Just let it be for
a while...
Dawn treads,
driving away the tired dew on the outskirts
The bright sun
promises to greet every morning
Break down the
dew on the tip
Soften the eyes
Greeted the
falling drops of story fragments
Last night, a
dream
Want to find
The story of the
dim fragments of the moonlight
Who was longing
someone.
Who?
The honest
answer, hidden by the tongue of the moon
He had been
stringing it together secretly
He knows
everything clearly
Or is it
possible that the red dawn is treading, looking for hidden answers?
Because the
faithful moon embraces silence
Then
He stared
fixedly at the water point at the end
Dew flakes
Prepared to fall
down
Left the story
in the heart
In a sense of
longing that should not be
My Mother's Kebaya
Slowly gripped
by the drizzling sun,
With a cup of
jasmine tea, accompanied by warm sweet potatoes, my mother caresses the
cheesecloth of the past.
The ivory yellow
color, with maroon sequins and beautiful trinkets, tickles my heart, weaving
the question, why does the kebaya still inhabit the teak cupboard next to the
old joglo...?
Why did she
still love the traditional cloth? Why
can't thousands of full moons crush it?
My mother's response remains the same, all because of love....
The ivory yellow
kebaya, my mother's dream, paints a heart covered in asoka flowers,
wijayakusuma, anyelir and a bouquet of jasmine.
The old kebaya
was knitted by her mother... It was a promise to sculpt the romance of the
Dutch era.
Ahh
unfortunately... a new flea with golden yellow trim all around, fading away,
like an old face, with fingers that are no longer young, faithfully holding it.
Unfortunately...
my mother's kebaya was the size of my dear little daughter...
They Need Love
Crying in a
fragile soul, losing as many beautiful pearls in the ocean
One by one the
angel of death pulled them out in a deafening manner
Helpless women,
children, and men
Went to meet
heaven
Went away with
the wound
Beat the trauma
Don’t know who
else will have to dodge the bullets tomorrow
Don’t know where
to hide
At the end, they
had to surrender because they were helpless to face the ruler's anxiety and
cruelty
Palestine
Should only the
name remain?
Or is it just
ruins left with the suffering of injured children?
Please...stop
the anger and greedy
Stop your
bullets
Look into the
eyes of women and children!
They need your
love!
RINI VALENTINA
RINI VALENTINA is a multifaceted
professional, with a rich repertoire encompassing editing, authorship,
compilation, and translation across a spectrum of languages including
Indonesian, English, and Spanish. Her prowess extends to spearheading the
creation of numerous international anthologies. In addition to her literary
pursuits, Rini Valentina serves as the Chairperson of the Asih Sasami Indonesia
Foundation and the Community Asih Sasami Literacy, demonstrating her commitment
to fostering literacy and education within her community. Recognized for her
global impact, Rini Valentina holds esteemed positions such as President of the
Cámara Internacional de Escritores y Artistas for Indonesia and Ambassador for
the Cercle Universel Des Ambassadeurs De La Paix France Suisse, illustrating
her dedication to promoting peace and cultural exchange on an international
scale.
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