Cinta

Negaraku

Land of which the heart of my feet grazes upon–

I walk slowly, my feet submerged in rainwater,

There is no shade above my head, but all the better,

I relish in knowing the comfort of calling in sick, 

I pass by another kopitiam, crowded as it always is,

An auntie uses the same old wok from the nineties,

An uncle’s spit flies out as he groans about politics, 

A migrant worker sweats–relieved that the rain relieves him; 

I stop and stare, a sight I’ve seen a hundred times before, 

And long before that, the rain is pouring, it’s lingering: finally, it’s gone. 

Land to which my soul, my jiwa belongs–

I make my way back home, the grass is cut, the clouds are near, 

The keys clatter against each other: my house, my gate, the backdoor…

The sun will come out again, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, 

The smell of pandan travels from my neighbour’s door to mine,

When I reach my kitchen, I return the favour–pale santan boiling in the pot, 

I don my reliable sarong and wait for the rice to be ready, 

Rice, rice, rice; what I had for breakfast I shall have again for lunch and dinner, 

I take two steps back, and half a step forward, 

Yet that’s how it’s been, it’s how it will forever be, always and all along. 

Land that I harness in my hands–

At supper, I sit next to these strangers, as we 

Watch a badminton game on the screen from an old projector, 

I have no idea who’s who, but I cheer as the one in the Malaysian uniform scores, 

I yell when the others yell, and I curse when they curse, 

My tongue is native, it knows the languages of the land, 

The match ends at midnight, the crowds disperse into the dark, 

I sit and await the news of a public holiday on my phone,

For when the festivities vanish, I am still free, but too alone, 

But at least it is quiet, there are no talking headlines on the newsstand. 

Land for which my blood flows and sheds– 

Here, there, the flag is planted everywhere, 

At the end of every street, at the turn of every corner, 

But you feel so distant, like a faraway dream that only I know, 

I speak of you to people, fawn over you, shout my love for you, 

And people tend to look at me like a desperate, spurned lover,

But all the things you are are mine as well, 

Still I know nothing–I am a simple frog in the well, 

Come tomorrow morning, there will be everything and nothing to be said.

More Than Friends, Just Not Yet Lovers

If noon should work its needles, and you 

Are still sound asleep a world away, perhaps

I should find you in my imagination, 

Where your arms are still around me, 

And your voice still bothering my ears, 

If a dream should come true, let it be you. 

If by any chance you should remember me, 

Tell me you know we are more than mere friends, 

You say my name and I thank my family again, 

I sit still at the dinner table, I know that your name 

Would spill from my lips and leave a stain—

If a thought should cross your mind, let it be me. 

If Monday is my memory, let me into Sunday, 

When your words wander for an hour, and I 

Am off sleeping (and watching) my worries away, 

How different we are to be so alike in love, 

I tell my God to ensure your safety and joy, but  

If it should be you, I’ll tell your Him I’d love to pray. 

If somehow you should come to love me in time, 

I’ll save you the trouble and tell you how I 

Need your hand wrapped around mine, how you

Should just hand over your shirt with your scent, 

I’ll love you proudly to tell your friends and mine, 

If it should be a kiss, do it next week or in due time. 

If life is a dream as you project it on the screen, 

I’ve loved before and for you, I’d love once again, 

Send a memo to your friends and family, tell them 

To remember my name now that I’m here to stay, 

Just for us, a month, a year, forever and a day, 

If we could last, love me now, then, and in between.

Kuala Lumpur in the Claws of Light

Good morning, Motherland! 

I’ve given you my all and today I have nothing, 

You have my name and number, and tomorrow 

Will not matter when we all occupy our yesterdays; 

Will you remember me when I’m gone, or 

Can my love be renewed at the post office abroad? 

If my heart has to belong to another, 

Will he declare me at customs and the altar? 

Will you clean the blood I’ve shed for our brothers? 

I am just his wife, I am just a cultural traitor. 

(Selamat datang ke Malaysia.) 

Good morning, Motherland! 

A stroll through Chinatown with my date is 

Sufficient to get my wallet empty, or plain missing, 

But it’s all right, I get the economy going, he loves 

To pay for everything—he reaches into his pocket,

I keep chanting and praying, “Cash is king!”

You’re welcome, Motherland! 

I am no White Man’s Burden, I belong to you solely, 

I am the Prince of Mount Tahan, and I bear it all.  

(Tell me you want me, Malaysia.) 

Good night, Motherland—

If you should close your eyes and go to sleep, 

Let me sneak out into the city and pry you 

From the darkness, let me remind you of 

How things used to be, since we only reminisce, 

I’ll take you out to yum cha, you let me belanja,

In the morning you’ll forget all about me, 

And in the afternoon, I’ll try to forget about you, 

I’ll do it over and over till you love me again, 

Kuala Lumpur, I’d let you break my heart a thousand times over. 

(Does Malaysia still belong to me?) 

Good night, Motherland—

Let me believe that there is still pain and suffering, 

Let me think that we are still alive and fighting, 

For a minute, just let that dead dream come alive, 

Fill my ears with lyrics that mean something again, 

Let me believe that we still know what we’re doing,  

If we should go on, day after day, year after year, 

Trust that I will still be here, 

I stare into the fog ahead (or is that just haze?) 

I want to believe you again, I want to love you still. 

(Selamat pagi, selamat petang, selamat malam.) 

This Is What I Know So Far

How do you know when you’re in love? I ask 

The Internet, and they tell me things I could’ve 

Learned from a good old Hollywood romantic comedy, 

They ask if I want to share the world with you, but 

You’ve already brought the world to my feet, so I ask

If it’s right you occupy every dream and every thought, 

Even when it’s trite, I’ve tried to prove it true. 

How do you know when you’re in love? I ask

My parents, and I try to take it back immediately, 

They roll their eyes and look at each other like I’ve 

Just told them some corny joke, but I look at them 

And think of us, I wish I could tell you every time, 

Each feeling and each thought that crosses my mind, 

Somehow I keep my cool and my cup full and pour it all on my family. 

How do you know when you’re in love? I ask 

The Gods of love songs, Fitzgerald and Sinatra, 

They drown me in lyrics of me and you, so I pry my way

 Into your mind and attempt an MRI scan, I need science to tell me that you like me, 

Because the signs aren’t enough—do I ever cross your mind? 

Since I Fell For You / I’ve Got A Crush On You

How do you know when you’re in love? I ask 

My best friend, but she won’t answer and she already 

Knows what I’m up to — “This is about him, isn’t it?” 

And I have to deny it because it’s a secret for me and you, 

But then again, whatever I hold in my heart belongs 

To her as well, so I make myself believe that we are only

Friends, we can be friends until proven otherwise. 

How do you know when you’re in love? I have to ask 

A million times until I hear those words from you, until I know

For certain, until it’s no longer a distant and deluded dream, 

If anything should come between us, let it be Cupid’s arrow, 

Hold me in your warmth though it is still summer, hold me

Until the very end of September, hold me for now, even when the year is over.  

Written By: Leya