Kun Fayakun (it's been a year)

When you came to me unexpectedly

(Thursday night, my living room, 6-8-20)

I know you from long time ago

When we were both young and innocent

When we passed by each other so easily

When we didn't really care about life

We part ways that year you graduate and never had any opportunity to cross path in life

We had lived our life separately, doing our best in whatever we did

You lived your life so magnificently

I looked up to you often

Sometimes, throughout the year we passed by social media

You reach out to me and vice versa

We talked about mundane things

Then we lost contact

Until destiny brings us together again

You were there when I started my new job

I saw you assist your father in his sickbed 

While I stood there as a ward doctor

I never know that time would change our life this abruptly

You keep talking, consulting, and here I help you with anything I could do

Not much, but I tried

Allah took my father to His side first

Then Allah took your father too

We gave each other condolescence and feel each other pain

We were left with grieve and love for the remaining

We thrive to give better environment for our world

And today, one year ago.

Not even one week has passed since we make conversation again

You ask for my hand

You tell my mother to give us blessing

Oh, how I like the way you straightforwardly asking 

You know what?

You're the living embodiment of anything I ever wish for

I hope that you really are the answer to my prayer

The oasis to my neverending desert

You came at the exact time to meet certain decision

I like you not because of what you are, but who you are

With your love for your family, I'm sure that you'll treat me with care

We didn't talk much, we just understand each other without words

May we live together in a blissful marriage life, may we hug each other family in grace and wonder.

Why did you ask when you're not sure?

Why did you make a woman thinking of you when you're not even know what you want her to do?

I thank you so much for never make me ask these kind of question.

Thank you for believing me and let me believe in you.

With love,

Yours.

(6/8/2020 - 6/8/2021)

something i got somewhere

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will remember everything about you, the good and the bad. The ones you don’t want to remember. The ones you thought that weren’t worth remembering. They will not let any of them go, and they will make sure to tattoo every detail of you on paper, on board or any possible surface. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will bury your embarrassing moments in them, they will carve your broken times in their hearts. They will spill ink all over your memories and throw them all onto blank pages. They will find beauty in every ugly situation that once happened in your life. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will dig you up from your hiding place, they will dig your soul out. They will strip down your walls, they will strip your heart and soul naked, and explore your darkest thoughts. They will stay in there and find ways to pen down the darkness. Then they will grab your hand and run. Run from all thoughts, run from everything that is holding you down. They will live in you and leave your soul all bare. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will take hold of your hopes and dreams, your successes and failures, your beauty and flaws, your perfections and imperfections. They will take all there is, and they will not return any of them back. They will turn everything about you, to spilled ink. They will turn you to songs, to stories, to poetry. And there is nothing you can do to stop them from doing so. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They are complex beings. They are fucking insane. You will lose your mind, you will lose yourself if you try to understand what is roaming around in their heads, if you try to understand them entirely. Even writers don’t understand themselves at most times. So if you were to fall for a writer, be prepared to say goodbye to your sanity. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will not always think of you. They will not always dream of you. They will not always prioritize you. They will not always have a bouquet of flowers and countless of chocolate bars with them. Or should I say, they might not even have any flowers or chocolates for you. They might even choose to spend their Sunday afternoons on the typewriter with a cup of coffee than to cuddle with you in bed. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. When they start to love, they will love with their all. They will love so hard, so hard that it might suffocate you. You may think that you can handle it but on the contrary, you can’t. Things are different when it comes to writers. You think you can keep your head up but their love will pull you down and it will drown you. They will drown you in their ocean of love.   

Don’t fall in love with a writer. You might not be able to turn back, to save yourself once you do. You may even remember them for the rest of your life, whether they are a part of it or not. You will not be able to remove them, to erase their words because it’s the only thing that remains permanent, that remains alive in this world. You will find pieces of yourself in between the letters, and they will haunt you for god knows how long. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will write about you. They will write and write and write about you. They will use you to ink their blank pages, but once they decide to stop writing about you, once they swear to not let you be the reason behind their spilled ink, you will no longer exist in their letters. And no matter what you do, you can never be a part of the ink on their paper no more. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They tend to notice everything but will speak nothing of it. Why? Simply because, they know that words are meaningless unless written. And believe me when I say this, they know how things will be at the end of the day, be it a relationship or a friendship. So oftentimes, they will write about sadness more than happiness. If you plan to leave them, they will not beg for you to stay. They will not hold you back, but they will let you go no matter how much it hurts for them to do so. They will just find a secluded spot of theirs with a pen and some papers, and write and write and write. That’s the thing with writers; they just choose to bleed through their pen, their words. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. They will open you up. They will cut open every scar you have. They will expose every part of you. They will use everything that has to do with you as a writing material. They will love you from a distance. They will look at you in between the spilled ink and blank pages. They will paint down everything that hurts on empty sheets, and it will hurt you too, whether it is intended or not. They will make you bleed along with their words. 

Don’t fall in love with a writer. Because I know how things will be. Because I am a writer. 

So don’t fall in love with me.

—Lukas W.

Janji Yang Terbakar

Broken promises, the promises you don't want to deal with, the promises you'd rather not to have, the promises you have to make. Anything, actually, it's up to you as a writer to interpret the theme! Be creative as much as you like!

Aku menghirup napas dalam, menikmati udara pegunungan yang penuh oksigen, merasakan semilir aroma pepohonan melewati hidungku. Aku mengatupkan kedua kelopak mataku, mencoba menghayati keindahan desa yang lama tak kutinggali.

Aku baru saja tiba di rumahku. Sebuah rumah tua separuh kayu separuh beton yang tampak nyaman. Atap genting merah bata tampak berlumut di beberapa sisi, sepasang tiang kayu penyangga atap teras terlihat kokoh, dinding kayu yang dicat coklat sesuai aslinya tampak sedikit kusam, aku harus mengecatnya ulang. Dua buah kursi rotan dipajang berdampingan di salah satu sisi teras, ditengahi sebuah meja bundar berbahan rotan pula.  Pantas saja orang tuaku tak pernah mau kuajak pindah ke kota. Aku kecil sepertinya tak pernah benar-benar menikmati rasa "rumah" ini.

Lalu aku membayangkan ia duduk menyesap lemon hangat di salah satu kursi itu sambil membaca koran pagi. Aku rindu istriku. Segera aku menapakkan kaki ke teras, membuka pintu depan perlahan, kemudian masuk untuk membuka jendela-jendela yang menghadap ke teras. Hal yang pertama kucari di rumah ini adalah telepon. Tidak memiliki ponsel saat ini sangat tidak menyenangkan. Dasar copet sialan! Aku kehilangan benda berharga itu di stasiun saat baru akan memulai perjalananku kemari. Membuatku menahan rindu padahal biasanya aku mengobrol dengannya setiap hari. Untungnya daerah ini sudah mendapatkan aliran listrik 24 jam sehingga aku bisa langsung menghubunginya.

"Halo, Sayang," ucapku segera setelah mendengar kresek suaranya di seberang.

"Hai, Sayang. Mengapa baru memberi kabar?" Ah, ia terdengar sangat khawatir.

"Maafkan aku. Aku baru sampai di rumah. Aku kecopetan ketika akan berangkat--tenang, hanya ponselku yang diambilnya. Aku baik-baik saja," cerocosku, tak memberikan kesempatan untuknya menjadi lebih khawatir lagi.

"Haa... baiklah jika itu katamu." Aku seperti bisa melihatnya tersenyum, sudut bibirnya tertarik manis setelah ia menghela napas. "Bagaimana rumah?"

"Bagus. Bagus sekali. Aku bernostalgia dan berangan-angan andai kau ada di sini sekarang menikmati kenangan ini."

"Kamu..," Ah, ekspresinya berubah. Aku yakin saat ini ia merengut, mendengar kalimat ajakanku selalu kuulang setiap hari. "Kamu yang paling tahu bagaimana aku, tolong jangan bahas ini lagi."

"Haha. Baiklah, Sayang. Aku akan beres-beres dulu supaya kamu senang tinggal di sini, nanti aku telepon lagi. Aku merindukanmu."

"Aku juga. Sampai jumpa."

Cinta memang tak kenal usia. Kami sudah menikah selama 15 tahun dan aku masih sangat mencintainya.

Malam itu aku mencoba

becak menuju terminal dan sejak
Tahukah kalian apa yang paling aku sukai? Menyeka air mata yang menetes dari sudut matanya dengan ibu jariku.

______________________________
Soulscape is a 31 days online writing project. To join please contact to stardust-glitteryhoe or rainbowsmoke16

#SoulscapeDecember2017 #SoulscapeDay03 #Promises

hello again

It's been a while

Halo Langitbiru, audah lama sekali aku tidak bercerita disini. Saat ini aku kembali sebagai istri, ibu dua anak, dan dokter. Waktu benar-benar teras berlalu begitu cepat, ya. Time flies, we grow older. Aku sekarang kembali kesini karena ingin menemukan kecintaanku lagi pada dunia penulisan. Sejujurnya aku rindu. Sejak dunia berjalan sangat cepat dalam lingkungan digital, format sosial media yang semakin padat, singkat, dan lewat dalam sekejap, aku merasa terlepas dari sastra. Tangan dan mataku sering tidak sinkron. Aku banyak lupa diksi, banyak lupa susunan kalimat yang baik dan benar, bahkan sedikit sekali yang kuingat mengenai pola penulisan.

Aku rindu menulis setiap minggu, padahal sehari-hari aku selalu menulis pesan whatsapp pada orang-orang, kemampuan jariku kurasa cukup mumpuni bahkan untuk mengetik saat menyetir mobil, yah meskipun itu bukan hal yang pantas kubanggakan. Tapi aku lebih rindu pada proses berpikir, proses mengolah kata dan menyusun kalimat. Proses menentukan apa yang akan dilakukan selanjutnya, cerita apa berikutnya. Hal ini rasanya banyak hilang dari kebiasaanku.

Hari ini aku menemukan satu poster, iklan lomba penulisan. Entah kenapa aku terpacu ingin mencoba menulis lagi. Cerita anak dwibahasa. Sebenarnya akupun tak yakin dengan kemampuan bahasa daerahku. Tapi aku mau mencoba. Menulis tigapuluh halaman cerita bergambar, entah gambar apa, cerita apa, tapi aku mau mencoba. 

Langitbiru, semoga kau berkenan kembali jadi kaertas kosongku, tempat aku berkarya lagi.