Ida Mustazir

Rookie (20 October 1987 / Jakarta)

Grass On My Father's Grave - Poem by Ida Mustazir

And then I took the scissor
And started to crop a tiny area
They grew strong and lush
Soiled and nourished
by the decaying body down there

And then I handed the scissor to my sister
to escape from the charge of guilt and devotion
But she told me that grasses need to die
Because they need to regenerate

(March 2009)

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 22, 2011

[Hata Bildir]