A letter that never arrived

Letter from the corner of the musala
Mother,
My skullcap is still fragrant
Somehow
the wind of the cottage can bring homesick
From our home kitchen

I learned patiently from a burnt pan
and learn sincerity from a plastic spoon
which is often lost but never angry

Father,
This prayer mat is a witness
how my tears fell
When your name I call quietly on the most quiet rak’ah

I don’t need permission
Sometimes I want to steal time
sneaking from the tahfidz schedule
run home
sneak at home
Then sleep beside the mother
Even though it’s only five minutes

But the cottage never gave permission to miss
So I learned to take care of him in silence
like watering a secret plant
which I hid in my heart

Every night, I leave miss
In the same sky
May God convey it
the most intelligent star late

Going home through dreams
I didn’t go home, but last night dreamed of playing a kite
Together with my father in the field behind the house without a cleric, without memorization, without “Let’s Sleep!” Mother smiled in the window
while holding warm orange juice which he said could heal
Rindu Santri Third Class

But this morning I woke up again
with a sloping sarong and a wet pillow on one side

Writer: Raiya Adjie Pratama

Editor: Rara Zaryry

Tebuireng Magazine