And the night chattering with the clouds
About the voices that break the silence
Violence that followed by another violence
And the endless bloody feud
And we were silent generation, chaotic and limp
With what we should fight
Is it not enough all the pain of our ancestors
Words are transmitted,
collected...
Knitted into a story
About our longing
My mother whispered me slowly before I fall asleep
Save your expectations
Continue the journey
Peace is not a gift...
(And for me maybe to restore a society is to restore peace)
This is my poem about peace that I made a year ago. Originally it's in Bahasa and I translate (also rephrasing) it because I think it's quite capturing the vision of the project.
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4 comments:
Dear Ferdy
I especially like the last part of the poem! I reflect how the day was, think about the meaning of my life, what I can do to make the world better place and so on at night under the moon walking on the street to home or at night just before I go to sleep. I think we are lucky to be able to go back where we can call "home" and where we can feel safe and sleep safely. As your mom and you say, I also think peace is not a gift so we need to make effort to achieve it.
Thanks Hisayo. Mom in this poem is general. As Martin Webber has said, it is an "alter casting" from the stories that I heard and I reflecting it through poems.
Hello,
Thanks so much for your sharing. Interesting.
Good lucks,
Hung
Ferdy,
This blog is like a portal into your mind! I am intrigued, inspired, amazed, humbled...to get just a tiny glimpse of the thoughts that tick through your brain - thanks for sharing!! :)
Janelle
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