not home yet.

5.30 a.m.

woken up

broken hearted

saw a flight of birds

on their way back home

they moved in a rhythm

a mellow pace

a melancholic song

it was my song

I longed for home

but I can't go home

I am not done with home

I have promises for home

I have dreams for home

impossible, impossible dreams

but where I stand now

what I have been through

says all of the opposite

three years there

one by one

I watched as my dreams

even the smallest of my dreams

were turned real before me

what I thought I couldn’t do

I did it

where my life had been risky

I had been saved

where I fell on my knees

I found grace

so this time round

why would I give in?

I have conquered weak before

all because of home

this too, is for home

yes I might be broken hearted now

but I am already comforted

by the thought that, one day

I'll be among the flight of birds

singing my own song

finally, finally home.

The short walk.

When life seems unsettled, there was this moment that I would like to remember. It was November 2009.  I had just arrived in England for barely two months. It was my first working day as an office cleaner. It was 10.30 p.m. on a cold winter night.I was left alone by my supervisor in a two storey's building. He even forgot to tell me where this place was. I finished my work and walked outside. Never in my life had I feel this afraid. The air outside was crisp. The sky was at its darkest hour. Where was I? I kept looking for road signs. Heavy rain then started pouring on me as I battled with my sight, still looking for signs.  Someone could have done something harmful to me and that would be the end of me. Wolves were howling. Every single sound scared me and no one at this hour, could save me. No, I had to be tough. Listening to all these sick fears would do me more harm.  I had to at least walk. Trees, trees everywhere. No people. No home. This was not a good sign. I walked again denying the patters of the rain. I walked denying my pitiful self, pitying me. I walked with thoughts of hope. Of why out of the many, it was written, that I was chosen to walk this path at the very first place. So to hope, I placed my entire self. I walked again with nothing but hope in my mind, in my heart, on my feet. Blindly, I followed the hope that was in me. Then, I saw in front of me a bus sign with the name of the road I was walking by. I smiled and I cried as I called the cab to picked me up. That walk sure lasted for a short time. But it was enough to teach me something about hope I would never ever forget. That in blindness, in tears, out of nowhere, Hope saves.

The snake.

But in my mind, I have killed you three times.

Those are the words I randomly saw that exactly depicts how I feel about you now. Your harsh words are unbearable. Your tongue is like a snake. Hissing and spitting out all of your hidden thoughts about us. How could you? After all we’ve done? How could you? A rush of thoughts fills me up. Bitter thoughts. Evil thoughts. Yes in my mind, I have killed you three times. What are you supposed to do when people wronged you? Defend yourself? Explain yourself? But what use is defending and explaining when in their eyes, you are the snake, hissing and spitting out? Then, someone must have got some facts wrong. Someone must have said something not nice. Someone must have been the snake. But what use is knowing who the snake is, have it punished, thrown into the fire and let it die? Because the snake deserves it? And so throwing it into the fire is valid and is the right thing to do? But how was I to know what is right? When I know, at some points in my life, I too made mistakes? I too made some wrong choices my right? Then maybe at this moment, the best thing to do is to let the snake be the snake. To let the curse be on us. To not fight back, although I know we could. To not punish, although I know we should. Maybe the best thing to do is to forgive. Because at some points in my life when the snake was me, all I would ask for my wrongdoings was never the punishment. But mere forgiveness and second chances. 

"Let any of you who is without sin,

be the first to throw a stone at her."

                                  

along the way

been trying really hard
this responsibility feels so heavy
that sometimes i feel like giving up
and stop trying
you know how frustrated it feels
to try to reach for something
but along the way
you trip
you get back up
only to be at the bottom again
but along the same way
your journey is altered
something new is added
a different perspective it is
a new story is told
to help you understand other things
that seem to be nonsense some time before
now you try to reach out again
with a newly found strength
again, you trip
get back up
trying hard to smile
an almost emptied bottle of patience
a restless heart that can only whisper
voices of hope
in between breaths of hopelessness
how many more times Lord?
nothing
nothing is left in me
i have fought the fight
i'm getting weary
i can only be still
and wait
but wait,
isn't that the lesson
that You are trying to teach me Lord?

the silent night

i have always been the owl. but one thing for sure, i do not like the silence of the night. it is when the room is really quiet and my thoughts are anything but. it is the time of the day when i am the most critical about myself. it is when my mind tells me to worry, to fear, to doubt, to judge and to hate. it is when sometimes i think i do not want to wake up because the world is a bad, bad place. but when i wake up, all the fear left me. the hate flees. and i realise, it is just my mind playing tricks on me. and then the night comes and the cycle begins.

blurry

life is blurry, my friend

even more, for you

whose hope seems not

to reach you

but fear not, my friend

remember 

the promise

the good news 

that the peace

at the end of the journey

will worth so much more

than the suffering 

that you have to endure

horrible

and the cat is unwell
and i am unhappy
and whatever curse i place upon them
who put the cat in such a horrible situation
the curse does nothing
changes nothing
and what do i do
i can't save everything i wanted
it's not how-things-work
but does how-things-work understand
the feeling of giving up on saving something
something so meaningful
so dear to the heart
or maybe that's the point
that the only means of saving
is in letting go

don't ever.

don't ever think that when people are happy, they are free from any pain. open your eyes. listen. really listen. real eyes will realise. real eyes will see. real eyes will understand. that one is happy because one is in the midst of fighting pain. so will the real eyes do a favor and help the fight, by being happy too?

one day i will walk the runway

today i have zero strength

but one day

i will walk the runway

today i am tested and poisoned

but one day 

the poison will be the reason

for my poised walk on the runway

today i have all the fear

but one day

i'll face the runway, strong and fierce

i'll be fearless

one day 

i will walk the runway

but you will not find me

 at the middle of the show

for i will be at the very end

because the very end

is my ultimate aim.

one day,

at the very end

of the runway

some time

 some day.

a boy thing.

when i was a teen, i had this obsessive desire to be a...boy. i think to be a boy, is cool. i still think so. boys always get what they want the way they want it, they can play football and get dirty with mud, they can eat real fast, boys with guitars and racing bikes are the kings of the coolest boys, boys are rough and i like that, boys are funny too - like really really funny and not like girls who always tell lame jokes, boys are tall, they are carefree and adventurous and they don't have to take care of themselves as much as girls do, boys don't have PMS. to describe my obsession -  i wore mostly black tees and cargo pants, painted my nails black and no other colour, had really short hair until i was out of high school, developed a massive hatred for the colour pink and girls who were extremely 'girlish', behaved and misbehaved like boys did, listened to all bands my brother was listening to, being called 'boy' once for really looking like a boy and you get the picture. and then time came and changed things. slowly, i realised that my wish to be a boy was too ambitious. and unreal. i think by that time, i had already given up wanting to be a boy, and just marry one instead. but up until now, i find at some points, i still have some 'boy thing' attached to me. i eat twice faster than Mark, i feel insecure with anything pink and i still want to have a racing bike on my own (although i know it's impossible due to my lack of height). i think i started to be thinking about this 'boy thing' after i chopped my hair off a few weeks ago. i just had to chop it off due to hair loss which was driving me nuts. but what amazed me was the feeling of having a short hair, again. it's like saying 'i'm back' to myself. it feels so free. it feels so... me. and i like that.

something in me.

so many things i want right now. by things, yes literally things. i love so many things. i'm the go-getter. i'll always try to get what i want. but lately there is something in me. something in me pulls me back when i try to get what i want. something in me keeps saying, 'no, not now'. it feels like something in me is someone else. it is not me. but i know it's part of me. but i'll wait because something in me tells me, there is a thousand fold of things waiting for me, if only i wait. right now, i'll follow something in me because something in me is always right, you see.

sudah terbiasa alasan bukan sempurna

sudah terbiasa hidupku bukan indah

A Piece from the Past

I found something I written 2 years back. And I thought I'd put it here. It amazes me of how much I have changed and how things began to slowly make sense right now. I was on the post break-up stage and to those  on the same stage, remember that nothing is meaningless in His Plan. Each little thing that has happened, no matter how hideous you feel about it, can be fitted into a pattern for good. And don't ever compare your life to others, because every little thing that comes blocking your way is already tailored for your personal needs.

So my little heart weeps.

March 25, 2010.

The present days have always left me thinking of the yesterdays. The noisy chats from friends have never failed to bother me with them. The engagement seemed so intense  that I was drowned to joined their conversations. I was a little afraid of friends because I was not used to  friends. It has always been me and him, but not me and my friends. I began by exploring the excitement in friends' eyes. This was like  a new world to me. I was like an afraid  child trying to fit in. How much friends could see it, I didn’t really know. It did not matter right now.

 Voices were vibrating through my ears as I listened to these lovely chats about hiking.

"…we were so eager to go up the mountain.."

" told that high above... on the mountain is a 7E shop…"

I was biting my nails. And looking at the reflections of the clouds on the windows. Friends were talking but all I could think of were  those little clouds that would complement me and him's going outs. The hand that would hold me when I crossed the road. The small chat that led to lies. And arguments. 

" ...we could only think of Slurpee and ice cream and didn't really think about the hiking…"

There were those dresses that I think were really cute. But was afraid to tell.  There were those spaces that I need but was too naive to explain.  There were those complicated things that he will never understand even if he asked me for the thousandth time. I didn't want to hurt him. So I hurt myself. And some days I felt like I actually enjoyed hurting myself. There were those days when I preferred to act dumb so situations will be suppressed by those little acts, so he won't even notice the sound of my heart weeping.

"..when we arrived on top we were told there was no shop…7E's just a lie…(laughs)"

I giggle and join the burst of friends' laughter. Along with it my little heart weeps. It weeps because it has known to be hurt so much.  It has gone through the pain without complaints. Not because it has faith. Because it has been too lost to know what faith is.  It has learnt to be stronger because  it has mastered the skill to gasp water along with air.  It has known too much and is sick of too much.

Maybe the memories will always try and find their way to hit me back. Maybe tears will dwell. Maybe time will let it fade.  Maybe not. Maybe time is needed to understand why it keeps on remembering the hurt, than the healing. Maybe that is just how the Lord wants to draw me closer. If it is, then draw me nearer  Sweet Lord for I have just begun to understand Your work.

a blind-folded journey

blind-folded eyes
what-if's everywhere
rocky path
stumbling ground
crawling
crying out
self-pity state
but self-pity is a sin
fear
a downward spiral is the hole
but how deep you go down
depends on
faith
faith
faith on the invisible hand
that is holding you
on your right hand

I wish

I wish 

I could say Fuck-You

on your face

but no

I'm smiling

and that alone is more

 than a fuck-you-on-your-face

I wish 

you'd stop saying things against me

because no matter what word you throw at me

it's kind of obvious that  

 it's actually you against yourself

don't you think so?

I wish 

you knew

oh how I wish you knew

       

Beliefs and Respect

Living here has exposed me to certain cultures that are not typical in where I used to live. Last time, there's a picture in Facebook showing two pictures of the same man. The first showing him in a shirt with full-tattooed arms and the second is him in his work uniform - a doctor. 

A few years back, if I saw the tattooed him walking in the street, I'd say he's a drug addict or a criminal waiting to be found. Well living here changes my perception. In the hospitals, I saw doctors with the same image- tattoos all over their arms. In universities, lecturers have very casual personalities - some dressed up like painters or electricians, some happily use bicycles to class, some  use big motorbikes like street gangsters.  But when you have a sneak peak at their room, you'll find that they are professors having written excellent books and being active with international charity work in education.

 In the church, I met two pastors, husband and wife who have deep passion for fashion despite their love in serving the Lord. And by that I do not mean they wear fashionable robes to mass. They channel it outside the church, in a blogging community where they hope to inspire people in the art of fashion. In my workplace,  my cleaning supervisor never mentioned it until the last day of our work that he actually is one of the boss of the entire cleaning company. And that merely is a coincident because I asked about his surname. Have I not asked, he will never have mentioned it. 

All these stories tell me that 1) people are doing what makes them happy - tattoos, appreciation on the art of fashion, big bikers and being a cleaning supervisor 2) the one people uncomfortable with what they are doing is me. I am uncomfortable because people really really do what makes them happy, which is very rare in my community. Everyday, you'll hear stories about people condemning other people's belief, people justifying their own beliefs, people announcing their dissatisfaction over the details of other people's belief. All of these seem to shape a community like me - someone who is afraid of people making fun of her beliefs, someone who will turn defensive when people questioned her of her beliefs, someone who feels when her belief is right, all others are wrong, someone who feels the need to justify her belief so people know why she did what she did. 

But living here truly makes a difference. My almost 3 years here have taught me so much about culture and respect. It teaches me that wanting to understand about other people's belief does not necessarily mean you support them.  It teaches me to follow my heart's desires, but not to be overcomed by it. It teaches me about pride, about humility. It teaches me exactly what my lecturer said, that it is what you do not do in front of others that matters. And when someone is being disrespectful to others' beliefs, it too, makes me question - who really is insecure of their own belief?

A Teacher of Hope

As much as I'd like to stay and work here, I'd like to first teach the children of my own Iban + Bidayuh tribes who are often forgotten in the education stream and sometimes, do not even know what a school is. People here complain about working hard, but what I can say is that there are other people who work harder than them and still do not receive a tenth of what they here received. I've talked about Malaysian schools (in terms of facilities and resources) in one of the British classes and at the end there was silence, not the awkward silence but the one with pity and sympathy, which later continued with twirling of hairs, putting on lipsticks, battling of heavy eyelashes and the teacher's repetitive complaints of "Stop being silly." Some people are just born lucky, we can't argue that. What we can do is, to try to reach out for those who are born underprivileged. Your hands could be their only hope, and hope could be what they dreamed of everyday. I know, because these children are me, sometime in the past. 

if you know yourself,

you will not be harmed by what other people said about you.

-Arab proverb

the cat

twice

i saw the cat

he looked sad

he was covered in ice

i tried brushing them off 

then i held him close

i didn't want him to feel cold

didn't want him to leave

have you eaten, Beethoven?

he still looked sad

when i realised

it was just a dream

i'm sorry they took you away, Beethoven.

Faith and Doubt

We all know the moment. We all know the path. The path when in certain times you have to make it alone. The one where you, only you are to decide. Such responsibility is huge, so you think. You look for others, but they don't matter. They will help you, that's good. But the point is when the moment comes, all you have is you. If you don't believe in yourself, then who else will? But it is a lonely, lonely path. You look at those who have made it, and wonder if you could make it too. It seems impossible. Now you doubt your own strength. You start to wonder why you are scared of your own light. But you forgot that it's okay to doubt, because "the one who never doubt will never truly believe" (Herman Hesse). 

30 Dec 89 - present

"...the memories of the moment you came to join 

our family kept running in my mind..."

I was awoken by his text. It was 5 am and I kept reading and all those thoughts just came in a flash, begging to be questioned and answered. Never on my birthdays did I think of what he was trying to say. Only today. You know, things like.. what happened before you were born... how was it like to have the thought of having me.. how did I respond to their love... did I even know that I am well-loved.. I really hope I do. The text just made me feel precious. It is such a peaceful feeling to have the words coming from his heart. It made me feel like I am here because of certain purposes. I don't know what they are, but at this age I think everyone knows a little something about their own - they will call you when you stray away, they will come to you when you deny them, they grow stronger when you follow them. The first sign is they give you joy and the second is they made you give joy to others too. When you have someone you respect, love and admire reminds you of your anonymous wonderful purposes, you can't help but get teary-eyed. It just makes you understand fully, how beautiful you were, are and will be.

"...it made me think of the journey of life till this moment 

and thank God, 

that's what you are today, honey."

-Dad.