Tuesday, March 24, 2009
at 8:21 PM;
simon says
Then they led him away to be crucified. On their way out they met a man from Cyrene, Simon by name, and pressed him into service to carry his cross.
- Matthew 27:32.
Talk about being
at the wrong place,
at the wrong time.
One moment, I was
one voice with the mob,
egging on the Son of God
and the next,
I assumed His silence
beneath the cross.
I would say I am man
enough to bear any job
but still, it was a long haul,
a road made all the more painful
by the spit and spite I endured
all the miles up Golgotha.
I shall not forget how
something inside me broke
like a wound that afternoon,
when He heaved the cross
from my shoulders and smiled,
as though every breath on earth
shone through His spirit.
-felix cheong
Missing
He go to school.
Never come back.
I make police report.
Newspapers, Crime Watch.
They even put his picture,
He and the other boy,
On poster, with reward
From fast-food restaurant.
I ask from the RC man:
Can I have it from the
Lift lobby noticeboard.
He give me and also say sorry.
I have it in my bedroom.
Every morning with half-
Open eyes I remind myself
My son: the one on the left.
Got calls come in once.
Say they saw him in
Penang, selling videos.
Or in Bangkok, begging.
Child prostitute they say.
Sometimes no voice at all.
Hello? Hello? Who is this?
I am your son. Then hang up.
So many things to remember.
His school is still there.
I walk to it sometimes;
Pretend I am him.
Praying come kidnap me
Take me away now.
Got one artist try to draw
My son's grown-up face.
I ask him draw one
For every year. He say cannot.
Got one time I was on TV.
Crying, with schoolbag on my lap.
Keep saying, good boy, always help me
Do housework. Now I say let me
Do the housework. Let me wake up
To the mess he left behind.
-alfian sa'at
the rest is silence;
