At Your Silent Furnace: Oh Mother
1//
In that furnace, sacred embers write hymns on the ashes, while the twilight body wears the weaving of ancestors who have become wind;
Mother stirs silence like mud, giving birth to a piece of sago for the sky from the tears of the sago palm that never stops praying.
2//
Mother's ancient pot is the cup of eternity, ready to catch the rain that drips from God's palm to the lips of the aging earth;
Its smoke rises like incense, carrying the names of my ancestors like white birds returning to the altar of light.
3//
When night covers the shoulders of the earth with a mantle of eternal shadow, that furnace continues to breathe as the heart of a home that knows no eternity;
Oh mother, in your silence, older than time, you sincerely sew love on embers until dawn is born as a child of prayer.
Atambua—Indonesia, July 10, 2026
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