Untitled Poem Between the Light of the Moon and the Sun
By,Jacob Ereste
Freelance Journalist
His reluctance to share his complaints with others — not except to the person closest to him — seemed to have become his innate character since birth. He always did not want the hardships that were plaguing him to be known and become a burden for others. Therefore, on various occasions, the people closest to him never knew that he was facing a serious big problem. So that when one day it exploded and erupted, not a few people were shocked, including the shock of other people towards him who were considered closest to him. So that his shock caused shock to others.
Moreover, just to not say that there was no rice in his house that could be cooked for lunch today, even for just the side dishes, he never imagined that he could get it. Because to borrow money from his regular Tegal Warung, he felt embarrassed and did not want anyone to know that today he really had no money.
Once he himself thought that his own life was like a meaningless short story. Because there were too many sad stories stored in his life and daily life, although never known, let alone want to get attention and empathy from others. Even on one occasion he formulated about his own figure as an absurd human being like the story in a novel that was once trending in the 1970s in this country.
But for him, that temporary conclusion was never considered a serious problem. After all, all the twists and turns of life as if it were a normal human being could be done, even though a number of his friends often said it was full of mystery. And his own attitude in responding to this serious statement, he appreciated it with a cold and calm attitude, even always accompanied by a smile that was difficult to interpret the meaning implied in his distinctive smile.
His expression was also cold and clear, so it was impossible to call it dull or bad like the sky that was being covered by clouds that were threatening to bring disaster.
Moreover, just to explain why the telephone contact via short message sent by a close friend was not answered, only because the credit on his cellphone was always low, could never be filled before it ran out and ran out. On that basis, he always avoided it every time his friends and colleagues wanted to go to his simple rented house, because he did not want to be seen to be suffering so much that it could add to the burden of life for others.
For him, it was clearly not because of prestige, but he really did not want to share the suffering from witnessing his life and life which was really very minimal for the general public. Most of his friends and relations from various fields and professions already understood, although there were some who found it difficult to understand, how could the potential he had could seem so tragic and ironic.
In fact, he himself had never positioned himself as a kind of comic that told a story visually or in the form of a narrative, no matter how short. But, after all, a friend of his who graduated from the faculty of philosophy once said that his life was like an untitled poem. And he himself responded to his friend’s joke with a burst of laughter, as if he had found something he had never witnessed in his entire life that was currently climbing above seventy.
He himself was amazed and astonished, seeing his own shadow that remained bright among the moonlight and the sun that never said tired. So he continued to appear passionate to continue writing, who knows until when the last sentence that might no longer be engraved on his own tombstone.**
Dadap Beach, June 28, 2025
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