A LETTER OF HOMELESS SON
TO HIS MOTHER
Mom, forgive me
I don’t go to school
No mean I don’t want
But because of not wanting to lose the time
To keep a live
To keep our dream
Here, at the edges of this town
Mom, don’t cry
As to see the uniform boys
Running while weving books
Your son is here
Preparing the proud
From the sweat and tear
Let us write a life and fate of us
Mom, take a rest
Pray for your son to be safe today
In 1997. I attended Poetry Reading at ASEAN Building-Jakarta. Maybe that time, Iwas already 28 years. Me and Acep Zamzam Noor, a quite distinguished poet either in
Before the Poetry Reading program was begun, my friends and I entered VIV Room. With its rug was 5 cm thin. When I tasted the special menu of ASEAN, the first time I found and felt was I felt shocked. Suddenly, all of journalist and the journalis from television broadcasting also entered the VIV Room. When I saw them, it found that these was Minister Fuad Hasan. Because of feeling nervous very much, I continued tasting food when my friends shook hands each other and chatting with the Minister. The metter was because my both hands were holding food and drink…that was my stupid thing which were always discussed at the time I met my poet friends.
