May Day— A Phone Call with My Dad

Today is May Day

I said to my father via phone call

“What is May Day?” he asked

It’s a day off for workers dad

It’s a day off for you as a worker,

I replied. He laughed.

“What? Really? Oh dear, you must be kidding me

when could a worker have a day off in his life?

Perhaps when he is getting sick or about to die.

Workers meant to work everyday to earn income

and to sustain his life

Just look at me my dear

Since I was a teenager I had learnt to be a worker for a lifetime

learning one skill to another skill and grow with it

from being a farmer in your grandparent’s rice-field

then a young military boy for gun-keeping task during 1970s of our country’s resistance

learning to become an electrician, a builder, a repairman, a servant

then learning to become a tailor.

Today I am a tailor while at the same owning a small clothing business

with the profits only enough to afford your education

and a bag of rice for everyday meal.

But you know what I love tailoring the most my dear

I love how my hands cooperates with the sewing machine

and turns the textile to a school uniforms

isn’t that a magic, my dear?

As I sell that magic for $10 to $20 US Dollars each

people keep coming ordering the magic I create

they said they loved it so much when they wear it

and now I have so many orders stuffed on the table at my tailoring shop dear

how could I take the day off my dear?

I am not a fancy office employee like you my dear,”

I sighed, dad is laughing.

But dad, please, do take a day off

you deserve it you know, I insisted

“Alright darling, but after I finished the orders”,

my dad replied and the phone call ended.

Today is May Day

is it really a day off?

Dili, May 1, 2020.

I Met Gibran in Baucau and Fell in Love with Poetry

Khalil Gibran, the famous Lebanon poet was waiting for me in a kiosk across the roundabout street of Villa-Nova city in Baucau. I saw him through his cover, a tightly wrapped book in plastic yet it is dusty because the cars and motorbike were passed by throwing its dusty greeting.

With some notes of Dollars I left for the kiosk owner, I brought Gibran home with me, barely knowing him. Together, we rode the microlete and look at each other with hidden smile trying to avoid the questioned look of other people in the microlete. I guess Gibran might be another storyteller I would spend my long night with in silence.

It’s 8 pm at home. I finished my dinner. The dishes are done. I knew I was ready to join Mr. Gibran in my bedroom.

“Good evening Mr. Gibran” I said while opening the plastic wrap off him. It felt like uncovering the veil of the bride for the first time. How awkward yet exciting to get to know him page by page before the first page. His title. Secrets of the Heart .

“So you are a poet Mr. Gibran,” I said and keep reading him through the page. Reading every line of the verses. I completely lost in every words of him.

“Mr. Gibran, how could words transformed in such They are hypnotically romantic and ironic at the same time. a magical way that it could touch the mind and soul? Even God becomes closer to you in words.”

“Poetry is not an opinion expressed. It is a song that rises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth,” Gibran said in smile.

That night we end up sailing in the ocean of poetry.

Baucau, 2008

My Curve

My curve is the first curve you felt when you were still a baby. The first curve you touched with your mouth looking for breastmilk. The first curve you smelled and you have been calling it ‘mother’ to remember it forever.

As you grew, you learnt about every shape of my curve whenever you saw me in front of your eyes, naked or fully dressed. That was the beginning of how you praise me from all the women and at the same time you got scared too because you heard that my beauty will not last.

Little did you know, that, my outer beauty is just a shell covering my deepest inner beauty. But you do not want to go deep into myself to explore me.

Then, everytime you saw me showing my beauty through my boldness, outspoken, persevereness,resilience, fierce,wise, charm or calm, you mocked me with your cowardness to turn me down with your power of patriarchy.

Dili, October 2018

Talita kum

Talita kum, my Soul

For you are the true essence

Of my abstract life

The basic substance

on the fuel of my machine body

With you I found my reason to live

Talita kum, my mind

For you are the fuel

That joints all my body spareparts

With you,

I know I am not a merely a fucking life machine.

Talita kum, my body

For you are the outer body part of me, a machine

I am a machine designed for life

To entertain life is my aim

But I am more than a machine

I do not wanted to be machine at all

So go fight that controller

Beat it to your feet

Let you be its controller

Talita kum… talita kum.. 

Oh my body

my mind 

and my soul.

Chakras5

Unheard

It’s 10 pm, you already fell asleep

It’s 12 am, and my mind cannot sleep

I tossed to left, I tossed to right

Still I cannot get myself right

On this cotton bed cover

I shed my tears, getting myself uncover

I know you do hear me sobbing

But your ears may have no opening

Here, in our bedroom, I am crying

But here, also in our bedroom, you remain deafening.

Bedroom, 24/6/2018

Footprint

Everyone of us is a footprint

People will step on us

Some will look down to us for a glance

Some will just ignore it
Mascarenhas, 3/2018

“A Very Small Boat”

1 VXMmypk7E0ALO3dGHNghKg

This ocean is very wide

And I am a very small boat

From this shoreline I look

The waves sometimes slam with anger

The waves sometimes are silent and do not care at all

Listen to the singing wind

Sometimes it screams

Sometimes it whispers

Seeing the farewell of the sun

Remaining with myself’s company in a solitude

I am a boat, a very small one and alone.

Lecidere, April 2016

 

“A Very Small Boat” https://medium.com/@vitaliaze/a-very-small-boat-c766fbd7654b