Bones – written by Jen Hughes April, 2000
I wrote this poem in 2000. I rang the East Timor Human Rights Centre to make an appointment. Ana Noronha told me that they were compiling a register of names of people who died and who were missing. She also told me that women in East Timor were picking up bones from the ground and secreting them in tais (the traditional cloth of East Timor), until they could conduct remembrance ceremonies with dignity. I was moved to write Bones (Ruin).
I have learned that though few of us are poets, when circumstances in life move us very deeply, the need to speak from the heart can become overwhelming and often it comes in poetic form. This was one of those moments for me.
Available in Tetun and English.
Ruin(Bones)
Translated into Tetun by Eric da Sena
Ema nia ruin hakoi iha inan rai nia laran
Inan sira mak hakoi falun iha tais nia laranInan no fen sira hein ni-nia oan,
maun alin no aman hein atu fo sai buat nebe sira hare’e.Lia-subar nakukun sai ba uut, nahe ba rai hanesan buat aat
Ema sala laek, mate ba dame la tuir nia hakarakhalo iha inan sira nia liman tais nee sei fila atu tane ita.
hanesan sira halo ona iha moris sira halo tan iha mate
domin fila fali ba dalan moris niaita moris iha ema nia ruin nebe falun iha tais
ita hein dame atu fila ba inanatu selebra ita nia domin ho sakrifisiu
ita moris iha ema nia ruin nebe falun iha taisBones
Bones buried in mother,
in the earth,
buried by mothers
in woven shawlsmothers and wives wait,
children,brothers, fathers,
wait to bear witnessdark secrets,
turning to powder,
piled violently tenderly innocent, in death
loved unconditionallypassionate holes,
ripped through woven love
crafted in mothers’ hands
these shawls return to hold youas they did at birth
they do again in deathlove returns the circle of life
we live bones of people
secreted in shawlswe wait, for peace
to return you to mother
to celebrate our love
and your sacrificewe live
bones of people secred in shawls
I weep deeply for you
for our agonywe live
bones of people
secreted in shawls
the world is enlightened
it looks at last
to your sacrifice
for peace and truth
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August 23rd, 2008 at 10:00 am
JEN,
Great to see you guys again at the Glasshouse.
I agree poetry emanates from an inner Source quite often ,if not always.
EG:
WHEN MEETING SOULS WITH VARYING PURSUITS
INTROSPECTION MAY FLOW
PERHAPS A RECOGNITION OF A KINDRID SPIRIT
WE ARE NOT THAT DIFFERENT YOU KNOW.
QED
PLM
2008
PS CANT RAISE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS YET!!MAY BE YOUR U S LOOK LIKE VS.
LOL