Saturday, April 13, 2013
seorang perempuan muda menyelipkan secarik surat dalam tangannya.
surat itu telah terbuka;
nampaknya ia merekatkan surat itu dengan segaris tipis darah.
di dalam surat itu berkumpul sekelompok pusara dan setumpuk nisan.
mereka diam-diam mendesis:
"neraka tidak serumit dan sekejam yang kau bayangkan.
kau telah melewatinya berkali-kali.
hidupmu, mungkin saja, adalah salah satunya."
*gambar diambil dari http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lZ-7gvtJ01E/UTdhcp_SRxI/AAAAAAAAB80/HFVqb-TX094/s1600/hauntednorthamerica.jpg
Thursday, April 11, 2013
"Ahesta boro, Mah-e-man, ahesta boro.
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly.
Boot heels clicked on asphalt. Someone flung open the tarpaulin hanging over the back of the truck, and three faces peered in. One was Karim, the other two were soldiers, one Afghan, the other a grinning Russian, face like a bulldog's, cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. Behind them, a bone-colored moon hung in the sky. Karim and the Afghan soldier had a brief exchange in Pashtu. I caught a little of it--something about Toor and his bad luck. The Russian soldier thrust his face into the rear of the truck. He was humming the wedding song and drumming his finger on the edge of the tailgate. Even in the dim light of the moon, I saw the glazed look in his eyes as they skipped from passenger to passenger. Despite the cold, sweat streamed from his brow. His eyes settled on the young woman wearing the black shawl. He spoke in Russian to Karim without taking his eyes off her. Karim gave a curt reply in Russian, which the soldier returned with an even curter retort. The Afghan soldier said some thing too, in a low, reasoning voice. But the Russian soldier shouted something that made the other two flinch. I could feel Baba tightening up next to me. Karim cleared his throat, dropped his head. Said the soldier wanted a half hour with the lady in the back of the truck.