Are you in that little paradise,
watering the flowers who look upon you
as infants look upon the breast of their mothers?
- Khalil Gibran, A Lover's Call XXVII -
....................
Baby,
Here I am.
Immersed in the memories and regrets.
A few days after you left me,
The wound is a gaping chasm, swallowing all the feelings.
I face the world with a heavy burden on my shoulders.
Sadness, regret and disappointment that can't be paid off.
The wound, too painful, let it be my wound, honey. I will bear it for both of us.
I told you that day, I was your big tree, whose leaves will hug you from the wind.
I'll be a fortress for you, from lightning and storms in our years.
Don't you believe I can turn into a giant wall,
hiding you from the dangers and all the threats out there?
Don't you know, that you are everything to me and it's final?
You're not the number one, number two, three, or all of them.
You, son, is not zero.
You are everything, before the numbers were created.
The sacrifice. I did it for him. This is between me and him. You don't have to know, honey. You don't have to do anything.
So, why did you go, left me without a trace?
Here I am, after you're gone, baby.
There's only pain is left of your presence.
In my body. In my heart. Where you dwell, a part of me.
How I loved those days with you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you, my son.
- Ibu.
