the physical journey that I traverse,
is the journey of the soul,
transport of the self from a fatherland,
to a country collected by sight and mind,
the knowledge the sweats from it,
is estranger's experience,
from one who had learnt to see, reflect,
and choose between,
the challenging actualities.
its true I have growled at my mother ,
and,
grandmother,
but only after having told them my predicament,
that they have never brought to consideration,
the wife that I began to love in my loneliness,
in the country that alienated me,
they enveloped in their pre-judgement,
i have not entirely returned, I know,
having been changed by time and place,
coarsed by problems,
estranged by absence.
but look,
I have brought myself home,
seasoned by faith,
broadened by land and language,
I am no longer afraid of the oceans,
of the differences between people,
no longer easily snared,
no words of ideas,
the journey was a loyal teacher,
who was never tardy,
in explaining cultures and variousness,
look I am just like you,
still malay,
sensitive to what,
I believe is good,
and more ready to understand,
than my brothers,
the contents of these boats are yours too,
because I have returned.
travel makes me,
a seeker who does not take,
what is given without sincerity,
or that which demands payment from,
beliefs.
the years at sea and in coastal state,
have thought me to choose,
to accept only those tested by comparison,
or that which matches the roads of my ancestors,
which returns me to my village,
and its completeness.
I've learnt,
the ways of the rude,
to hold actuality in a new logic,
debate with hard and loud facts.
but I too
have humanity,
respecting man and life.
I am not a new man,
not very different,
from you;
the people and cities,
of coastal ports,
thought me not to brood,
over a foreign world,
suffer difficulties,
or fear possibilities.
I am you,
freed from the village,
its soils and ways,
independent,
because ,
I have found myself.