The Timing is Everything
Time to get up
Time to go to bed
Only time will tell
Time after time
Ticktickticktick
The watch is a god
Do you have the time?
Could you spare a few minutes?
Time is money
Spend your time wisely
I’m running out of time
Time is of the essence
One at a time
It’s your time to shine
Your 15 minutes of fame are up
Time expired
Night time
Day time
Greewich mean time
Make time
Out of time
It’s all just a matter of time
Poetry
These days
The only sunrises I see
Are dangerously blinding me
From the rearview mirror of my car
These days
The only times I feel the rain on my face
Is when I’m rushing out
Stretching to open my umbrella
These days
I can’t remember the last time
I sat down and read a book
Solely for pleasure
But one day
When I am spent,
And my days are filled with empty afternoons,
I will write my poetry because I want to.
Soybeans
Bouncing to the beat of the school bus
We field trip to a farm just outside of town.
“But it’s not a cow or piggy farm,” teacher says,
“There’s corn and soybeans here,” teacher says,
“Illinois is the bread-basket of America.”
“That’s a pretty big basket,” Camry whispers to me
And I think real hard about this some more.
Bread is tasty.
Six-year-old me has had cornbread before,
But never soybean bread.
I wasn’t even really sure what a soybean was.
My mind pictures a little brown bean
Rocking in a chair with a needle and fabric –
A sewing bean?
Teacher points up and talks again.
The loud thrumming hurts my ears,
So I cover them.
“Those big machines,” teacher says.
“Crush the soybeans,” teacher says.
And my six-year-old logic finds it hard to believe
Since they’re such little beans and all.
Bouncing to the beat of the school bus
We say bye-bye to corn and soybeans
And go back to school.
Teacher passes out coloring books,
(Books that think ears of corn can talk)
And a little box of crayons.
I count the colors inside:
Green
Blue
Red
Green is my favorite color.
So I open the book and color
The corn
The barn
The sky
And the farmer green.
But my masterpiece is halted by a familiar voice:
“These crayons are made from soybeans,” teacher says,
“They’re so special, you can eat them!” teacher says.
Green crayon clutched in my hand
Six-year-old me never had a soybean crayon
Because six-year-old me never had a soybean.
I thought real hard about this some more before….
I hate
soybeans.
A Breakdown
Is that moment when
Breathing
Becomes a chore
Your chest burns as shock
Locks up your lungs
A moment lasts a week
An hour lasts a decade
Your ribcage shatters like a porcelain cup
And spills your saturated heart to the ground
Your mouth dries out
And any spit you have is just hot tar
Eating away at the lining of your cheeks
Swallowing isn’t an option
Your mother heard the news first
She cries and cries on the phone
Hearing her strong voice fracture with every tear just…
You want to cry
But you can’t
You want to scream
But you can’t
You can’t even stand up
So your legs break down
And you crash against the wall
Sliding down it as the coarse brick
Turns its back on you indifferently
This is the moment
Nightmares come true
The moment you know
He’s gone
Forever.
The Beggar Woman
Jakarta, 1997.
Traffic jam.
A complete standstill for miles.
Lines and lines of idling vehicles
Like little heads of straight pins jabbed on many yards of fabric.
Rumbling, impatient pinpricks,
Their exhaust billowing up between the towering buildings
And through squat, humble side-street shops.
I have just turned seven years old two weeks ago
My grandfather sits on the driver’s side, on the right,
And I am buckled securely in the passenger side, on the left.
Today, I am going downtown to work with him.
We wait
Like everyone else in traffic
For something to happen.
A change of scenery.
Progression.
A splash of water on the hood
And a woman,
Weathered from time and the hot sun
Begins to scrub the hood of the car.
Her knobby fingers and wrinkled hands work the soapy water
Into the metal and then she shines it dry
Finishing her job only after our windshield is also sparkling.
Ma’af! 1
She knocks on my window
Kasianilah saya! 2
Pleading with me through the glass
Saya butuh uang untuk makan! 3
The look of shock on my face softens.
I had never seen someone truly homeless until today.
My grandfather turns to me
And sees my body go still
Sadness in my eyes
And contemplates the value of true compassion
Within a child’s innocent mind.
Traffic starts to move inch by inch
And he slips a coin into my hand.
Tells me to unroll the window just slightly.
I do, and smile, offering the woman my simple gift of kindness.
What amount of money it is, I have no idea,
But the beggar woman’s eyes lighten
And she places the coin safely into her pocket,
Thanking me again and again.
We finally drive forward,
The belt of immovable cars giving way
And I see the beggar woman bend down,
Already exhausted from her hard work
And pick up her bucket of water
Her day is one coin closer to a meager meal
And that moment of time forever imprints in my mind.
1
“Excuse me!”
“Have pity on me!”
3
“I need the money for food!”
2
Us
The best nights were cloudless.
We could stare into the night
Feeling the weight of realization of our cosmic importance
That we’re only as big as a blade of grass in a meadow
And nothing more.
Sometimes Bella Luna shined so bright
Like a spotlight on pitch canvas
And sometimes the sky was a deep midnight blue
And we could look at those tiny, twinkling galaxies
Intertwining with time itself.
Even in July, the cold was bitter and we curled up close
The already dew-soaked grass of that middle school soccer field
Beginning to drench our little fleece blanket.
Soon enough the sun would come
Embellishing the sky with beads of yellow and red
And the peaceful night would drip off like watercolor.
But for now we remain content with each other
And get lost in smiling pupils
Those tiny galaxies looking down to smile with us
Because we were the center of the universe.
For Granted
Snowflakes
Don’t live very long
Like us humans do
They simply float from the sky
And die
On the road
In the meadow
Atop someone’s nose
But snowflakes
realize the moment
is quickly expiring
And falls with grace
Waltzing with the wind
Smiling to the sun
That will soon take its life
They know this
Accept this
And remain determined not to take anything
For granted.