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For my Indonesia

Whether…
You are too great to enjoy us,
Until the leaders make
As merchandise?

Whether…
You are too generous for us,
until your people are preserved
by a neighboring country?

Whether…
You are too patient for us,
until you let us get entangled
in legal uncertainty and poverty?

Whether…
You are tired of praise,
to let us be insulted, tortured,
And become a world of laughter?

Whether…
You are tired of finding an honest leader,
until you let them
Swallowing public money without chewing?

Whether…
You are too smart for us,
for our education
You no longer care about it?

Whether…
You have run out of clear water,
until we have to cry
To nourish your own land?

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My Indonesia
To whom should I ask this question?
Where should I find the answer?
I’m afraid … no one will answer.

My voice became sap,
close, more than meat in bones,
Binding to a bulging argument:
abuse, fragile credibility,
and the light it should be
penetrate intimidation rolls.

White flag symbol should
Only fluttered after red.

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Nation

The country now feels like a delicious dish—
with the people as cheap spices.
Available everywhere.
Cheaper than the value of the footing of the footing.

This land will tell stories
About what dish
served after sleep,
After photocopying money—
or even position.

I have to be their feet
In order to break the other feet.
But what if their brain
Still keeping the recording
About how to grow legs into heads?
Is there no way to break that either?

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Buy culture

Who is there?
Indonesia? It’s me-
I am Indonesian.

This is my garud on the chest,
This is my dull bed,
This is my eyesight,
This is my culture—
sparkling, complementary.

This is my nature, the result is to be enjoyed.

Appreciate me, but don’t sell me.
Take care of me, but don’t be branwged me.
I’m ashamed … to the Creator.

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Writer: Amalia Dwi Rahmah
Editor: Rara Zaryry