Halte Pluit - Stasiun Cawang,
March 19, 2016, 22:15 p.m
Strange occurring on the bus
tonight
Empty deserted station, at
first, tired restless wave after
wave of restless people
not long after
I sat right next to the door,
doomed to always stay awake
as the loud, lonely hum of the
vehicle engine lulls me to sleep.
A boy came in, crying.
He stood next to me, separated by
a glass divider. Shivering, he looked down
as I ask him if he was okay
and needed to sit.
"Please, don't
mind me," he said quietly,
"as I do not have anywhere else to weep."
Light came through the large glass
windows, the creaks of the vehicle
doors, dances over the torn up
bus floor. Street lights, car lights,
neon lights flashed away unnoticed,
as so many beautiful things in the world.
I gazed outside. The rain was falling
as I trace the river banks on the window
with my eyes. The river ends on
the tired curve of the bus driver's shoulder.
I don't know which one is sadder,
not having any place to weep,
or not finding any reason
to.
-
Title from a poem by Adimas Immanuel, the last thing I read before getting on the bus. Selamat hari puisi dunia.