Tuesday, March 25, 2008

When The One Who Forgets Remember

The word human when translated into bahasa melayu it means insan
and insan comes from the arabic language where the root word is nas
meaning forget.
so insan is one who forgets and its our nature as human beings to forget constantly.
So this poem deals with the darker side of forgetting and is entitled "when the one who forgets remembers";

God knows how muchI have forgotten
and how much I have erased, blottered and kept under the blankets of my dreams
because I do not know
What I do know is that
alll that's left in me are just glimpses of pain and confusion
that would appear at the most unexpecting of time before robbing
the smile from my face
the light in my eyes
the joy in my days
the climaxes of my nights
and before I could wonder what it was and when it happened,
it leaves me with a scent that smells and feels like regret

it follows me silently,
threatening to wake me up from a nightmare of my own makings
and sometimes when the fear crept upon me like those gigantic man eating vegetation mutation of a creation I have read in my childish years
I would forced my eyes to close, shut it all out, think happy thoughts
and all I could see is complete darkness with stars that blink and vibrated to the rhythm of my breathings
It helped for a second or two but then the terror would catch up with me
I would feel it
weighing my heart down to a depth I have never been
and yet felt so similar,
familiar,
almost frighteningly clear
and then it would happen
it, that one precious millisecond of knowing and understanding
and witnessing the explosion of cold cutting words and phrases I have taken as mine
kurang ajar, sial, perempuan takde maruah, fuck you, fuck me, slut and you're the woman who ruined my life!
and there you were at the end of syllables of dancing insults and screams, smiling and welcoming me back home
your arms stretch open wide like a gaping mouth of razor sharpd teeth
it will never happen again, baby.

God knows how little I have remembered
but I do know I do know that this living hand,
now warm and capable, of earnest grasping,
would soon turn to sweet tasting dust
and this living heart,
would soon stop beating and begin its waiting
of a new day
and this living soul,
would soon grow little fingers, toes and a nose
and I would live
before I forget again
God knows, God knows,
before I forget again.