Don't Give Me Anything Poem by Titon Rahmawan

'Don't give me anything
Even if it's your attention
Even if it's your love
Even if it's your tears
Don't give me your sadness
Don't give me your anger
Don't give me your thirst
Don't give me anything
Because I still wander the skies to find all traces of you, Mother.'

; But dear, how can you say such words? Haven't I given you flowers? I have given you the sun. I have given you grass and leaves. I have given you the sea and the sand of the beach. Why still?

Haven't you sipped enough milk from my loneliness? You feel the pain of my wounds, just as you once cried out happiness under my belly like the knife strokes that welcomed your presence. How everything is still silent. I gave you a warm fire, I gave you a touch of the morning, I gave you a gentle song from the bottom of my heart that you knew held a million worries. How can you still say such words?

I still give you light until half of my life. I gave you laughter from half of my death. I gave you eternal memories and eternal dreams. I gave you everything, even if it was just a simple box of lunch that I hoped would satisfy your hunger.

How I always wanted to be there for you, my dear. Because I only have one request, nothing more. Let me be your traveling companion, your friend in times of trouble, the bringer of joy in times of leisure.

Just as I used to hug you and lay you on my lap, let me be the bread that fills your hunger, the solace when you are tired, the panacea when you are sick.

Wasn't I there when you learned to stand and am I still there when you fall? I was faithfully waiting for you when you ran after the moon and the sun. And even though time continues to creep up on me with the flow of age, until maybe I'm no longer able to stand upright like before. I will never give up on you, my dear. No, I will never give up. Because for me, you are enough just the way you are.

But can you be enough with all your pride? Enough with what you have. Enough with all the prayers that endlessly drip from the corners of my heart that hopefully become the most heavenly hope. Your heaven, dear. Even though I know it will disturb your restful sleep. Although it will add to your restless working time.

Because I know how hard you struggle. For every drop of sweat you shed when you have to run to catch the bus that comes to pick you up. When you can't take your mind off the computer screen that never stops blinking. When the morning comes and the rush comes like rain that never ends whacking.

Suffice yourself with your mother's love, dear. Even though later, no more cynical remarks slide from Mom's wrinkled lips. Rest assured, the door to Mother's heart will always be open for you, whenever you want to come home.