Cinta, Eksistensialisme, Puisi

Burning Brine

Lord I am drowning
In my own tears
Since these glimpses
Just won’t let me go

I see corpses of my uncle, auntie, best friend, father

Dead bodies, empty vessels, fade voices and laughters

And I can’t stop thinking about my sins and guilt

I don’t think I am a victim
On the contrary, I was a perp
Inflicting pain to others
Like strains of hair on her sink
Or scars below her belly
Or my hand marks on her neck

And my dear sibling inability to function
Or my mother constant sadness in her laugh

Jesus how did you take the sins
By being crucified, betrayed.

Sleep now, sleep my friend
All will be done in no time

All shall pass

To the grave in a hope for grace

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