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RATNA,
You May Laugh At Me,
A Love Poem Inspired by T. Wijaya
Ratna, you may have left me,
But the blanket on our bed remains.
Sometimes out from the shadows in the street I hear
A chatter; I push open the drapes, look outside,
But see no one. Because the event
Reoccurs daily, at intervals,
Fifteen minutes before the bell of the ninth hour,
I imagine its source children, who hurry, hasten,
Not to be late for school. It is a collective voice,
And it seems to capture, as if these youngsters
Recite my poem, aloud, the words, the meter,
And within its clamor, how the poem means.
The verse swelling over the bedroom window sill,
Out from the shadows in the street,
It seems to express the fire in my heart.
I hear my love for you, said aloud with excellence,
A match, were the poet himself to read the lines,
How strange it must be when in classroom
These students learn, study the language of science,
Realize, my own textbook teaches,
Reveals nothing but great passion and affection,
A knowledge that no everyday, timely attendance,
Might bring to reason, or be sufficient to
Realize with easy, algebraic, chalk–board formulation.
Ratna, my feelings, the terms of my endearment, dwell
Far removed from any chapbook lesson,
I am reminded of the hapless task, trying to reason
The abundance, all the marvel, God bestows
Though we may not merit, no way deserve
His grace, the bounty which freely befalls us.
Ratna, you may laugh at me, but when I awaken
I pretend to percolate coffee for you,
Or that soon I receive your telephone call,
Your voice at the other end, you,
No longer at business, but here, now,
The distance between us breached,
The gap closed, when I hear your vocal timbre.
Ratna, my dreams of you are constant and happy.
You may have gone, flown from my arms,
Still, I remain deeply enamored,
My thoughts of you, our life together, remain indelible,
My remembrance, joy, boundlessly happy,
It burns within my mind’s eye, and warms my soul.
Remember the tree I planted in your garden?
Its fruit has become property of another,
And each and every time I think it over,
Our life, the every moment together,
I find myself sitting back at desk to write,
Hoping to explain, yet though my being over-burdened,
To tell all audience the splendid images,
The visceral weight, and the deep compulsion,
To relive the time our hand in hand held together.
Ratna, in endless run of sentence after sentence,
My life returns to great day, the glory chapters,
Which comprise the big book of our love,
Oh, how thrilled I am to have been at your side.
Ratna, in your heart my love for you may be dead.
But each day I arise in that blue room,
That blue bedroom, where we started the day,
Each day I wake to the same blue sky,
Which houses our Lord, to Him I pray,
I ask for nothing, only His Will for you, for me, today.
Ratna, my lovely light, the dream which floods
Across this room, down upon the key board,
And propels my fingers to write the distance,
How far my heart races,
And this dream, please, believe, no mere chimera,
No flight of fancy, but real as any earthly object
You may now touch or see before you.
Do not fear me; do not fear this verse.
Darling, listen not to friends who claim misgivings,
Who believe I have taken leave of my senses,
That my ultimate design may want best for you.
You know that is not the case.
Ratna, I write in the moment,
This instance sums all a human may possess,
But I mean every word I say for the ages,
World and all posterity to see.
Oh, what a lucky man I have been,
My good fortune, the gratitude I feel in having
Loved you and making your acquaintance.
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