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My Two Precious Sons

by maria antonia rahartati bambang haryo  
6/09/2011 / Family

On August six, nineteen sixty six, JHW,
your coming sparkled our living ...

On April twenty four, nineteen eighty seven, CSN,
your arrival excelled our existence ...

two lovely babies
two different lullabies

you would sleep only with this song, JHW,
...sleep, darling sleep, angels holding near, dear ...

and you, CSN, still remember this one?
... ne pleure plus, ne pleure plus, maman te berce mon amour ...

somewhere in time, John Locke's notion
tabula rasa,
clutched instantly my attention

He said,
it was up to parents
to select colors
to paint faith
blush hope
tinge charity
on their children's blank tablet
clean canvas
clear paper

sadly,
there was no school for motherhood
I mixed too much despair
when I painted faith

and excess of doubts
when I highlighted hope

and didn't spread enough loyalty
when I tinted charity ...

then came school days
followed by the churning youth years
you took possession of your own canvas
you took control of your own tablet
and started to add colors


sadly,
when you wanted to erase scratches
or remove marks and blotches
we were stunned
it was too far from what we wished ...

you were distressed
I was troubled

what to do, then?
when in times communications were clumsy
when we were not careful about
what we did, said and thought
while apologies were stiff and taut
and regrets seemed enforced

my two precious sons,
what if we sit and talk together,

now that finally we're aware
that life's rehearsal is over

let's beckon our God the Lord
to recreate our paintings
for He knows not the word late

let's have faith
that scratches will be retouched
into exquisite scenery
while marks and blotches will be transformed
into remarkable vistas

my two precious sons,
what if we let our Greatest Artist
repaint our life

with His best chosen of shades
then it would be a masterpiece
to your delight
to my elation
to our happiness
on heaven and earth

with much prayers and love,
your mother

Author's Notes
- ...sleep, darling sleep, angels holding near, dear ... A cradle song I learned to play when I was a child, from a MAMMOTH book piano for children. I lost that book, and never found it until now ...
- ... ne pleure plus, ne pleure plus, maman te berce mon amour ... (don't cry, don't cry, mother lulls you, my love) A cradle song in French, I especially made for CSN, right after he was born.
- John Locke's tabula rasa - blank slate - Latin - refers to the epistemological thesis that individuals are born without built-in mental content and that their knowledge comes from experience and perception.

- translator - from French and English into Indonesian since 1979; 96 books have been published.
- writer - 12 children books and 2 novellettes in Indonesian have been published.
- member of fanstory.com; I have posted 77 writings (short stories and poetry)

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