Yogyakarta

The line from the volcano’s summit

past the sultan’s palace to the sea’s abyss

spans the sacred space of the culture

in which until the end you are embedded.

It preserves the balance between 

the heavenly bodies and the daily life of prayer

and service, of birth, dying and grief.

May nothing disrupt this imposed harmony

or neighbours will view us with darkened gaze,

fire will rise up from Merapi, blood

descend from the world of ancestors.

So I am taught, ignorant as I still am,

and I am all ears and see charred fields

where the rice now rustles in a gentle breeze, 

Hear envy in a friendly voice, and bow

my head because I have so little own control.