Aria — a song of light

A Disappearing Virtual Poetry (Micro)Chapbook

by Patrick Johnston

Aria

Surah Al-A’raf (7:189)

هُوَ ٱلَّذِى خَلَقَكُم مِّن نَّفْسٍۢ وَٰحِدَةٍۢ وَجَعَلَ مِنْهَا زَوْجَهَا لِيَسْكُنَ إِلَيْهَا

Huwa allathee khalaqakum min nafsin wahidatin waja’ala minha zawjaha liyaskuna ilayha.

Dialah yang menciptakan kamu dari diri yang satu dan darinya Dia menciptakan pasangannya agar dia merasa tenteram kepadanya.

It is He who created you

So that I might dwell in security

With you

The idea of you

If I were in love with the idea

Of you

I would see the flawless skin

Of your profile pics

And the hidden hair

Behind your hijab

And your hidden body

Beneath black hoodies

And baggy jeans

If I were in love with the idea

Of you

I would see that your skin is not flawless

And I would see your anger

And the way the world saps your strength

And although you might never admit it

Your need to be understood

And accepted

As you are

If I were in love with the idea of you

I would have given up

On the idea.

Your body

Your body is mostly hidden

Beneath baggy clothes

And modesty

And hidden

Beneath your black hijab

Your glorious hair

Mostly hidden

I see your elegant hands

With long delicate fingers

But your feet are feet

And the bruise is swollen

But my body responds to your voice

And the occasional crop-top

In Bali

Tells me

That my lust

Is mixed

With reverence

For your body

Assumptions

She has shiny black keratin hair

And she looks at me

and says

You make too many assumptions

It’s annoying

Her myopic eyes come in all colours

But she sees me

And she says

You ask too many questions

It’s annoying

I tell her something about what I think

Or feel.

She says I already told her that.

She says I make too many assumptions

Maybe she is right

She says I ask too many questions

Maybe she is right

She says she likes me

I tell her I love her

It annoys her

Maybe she is right

Sedang Mager

Her silences are as vast and empty as space

Filled with galaxies of thoughts

That collide and explode

Me

I am fearful

And covetous

And needy

And at my core there is an ocean of sadness

And I exhaust her

Always with his words

Always with his words

Saying things

Telling stories

Making jokes and grand promises

Telling lies

Sharing loudly at 12-step meetings

As though someone might benefit from his bullshit

Talking to himself

“For fuck’s sake”

With his fucking words

Tattle-tale and scuttlebut

Even though he knows

That gossip is a murderer

Even though he knows

That careless words can kill

Always

Writing foolish stories

For fools

That fools will never read

Writing foolish poems

Hoping you might understand

His words

Always drinking tea and writing

His stupid fucking words

Bipolar

You will say “I need less”

And I will say “I need more”

And my highs will be too high

And my lows will be too low

And you will say

“Just let me BE

Your pain

Your pain

Should be my pain

Because

I caused it

With my fear

But

I cannot take away

Your pain

So I must try

To take away

My fear

Her love

Her anger is ice cold

And patient like a glacier

Her anger is volcanic

And works on geological timescales

Her anger is oceanic

Vast and tidal

She tries to hide her anger

But it seeps through the cracks

In her defences

I try to tell her that anger

Is fear in disguise

And that love trumps fear

Her love is so quiet that it is sometimes hard to hear

On my knees

While I kneel

And kneel

In the gravel

At your door

In humility

To ask for your forgiveness

Of my sin

Whilst you take care

Of your ways

In your time

My old man’s knees

Shout

In my old man’s ears

That this is not

Just

Performance

Walking

We are both tall

And slim

But age will soften that

For me

Before it does for you

You will wear your black hijab

And dark glasses

To hide the differences

Between us

And no one will see that I am an old white man

And you are a young Muslim woman

Because we are both tall

Around and around

She says

She will be my wife

She says

I must ask her father

She says

She wants a ring

She won’t believe I’m serious

Until

I buy her a ring

I say it’s a vicious circle

I can’t buy you a ring

Until

I ask your father

And around we go

She says

She will be my wife

I buy her a ring

She buys her ring

She can’t be seen

With an older white man

Whom she will marry

Buying a ring

So she buys her ring

Alone

And around we go

She says

She will be my wife

She chooses her ring

It is beautiful

On her hand

She wears her ring

I ask her what it means

Does it mean we are engaged?

It means we are friends

But she is mine

She says

And she will be my wife

When we are married

And around we go.

As-salaam alaikum

As-salaam alaikum

She has taught me the words

She is relaxed

And smiling

I am nervous

But smiling

She is relaxed

They are her parents

She is happy and relaxed

I have bought her a ring

Without permission

From her parents

I am nervous

She is smiling

They are her parents

They are her parents

Barely older than me

I am nervous

But smiling

She is their daughter

I want her to be my wife

I am nervous

But smiling

They smile back

At her

At me

Wa alaikum assalam

Beyond the Pale

They may never see beyond the pale

Skin

That they will think inflamed my lust

For a body that I had never seen

They may never see beyond the age

Gap

That they will think implies Victimhood

Of Predator, or Daddy Needs

They may never see beyond the dollar

Bills

That they will think paid for your love

For a price you thought your soul could bear

And I might be a creep

And you might be a whore

And I might be an exploiter

And you might be a gold digger

In their eyes

But they will never know

That I embraced your faith

Long before

I embraced your body

Or that you gave me back my soul

And my life

When I thought that they had drained away

Or that we fell together in accidents

Of theft

And on motorcycles

And of illness

And in fear

And hope

And care

And contact

And got caught together

In Grace

Skin

Between us there are barriers

Of skin

Because although mine

Is darker than yours

I am White

And you are not

So perhaps this love is doomed

Between us there are barriers

Of age

Because my years

Are greater than yours

I am Old

And you are not

So perhaps this love is doomed

Between us there are barriers

Of God

And Language

And Culture

And fucked up brains

So perhaps this love is doomed

Perhaps this love is doomed

But my God is your God

By any other name

And so I will learn your God’s name

And I will learn to communicate

And I will live in your land

And I will make my fucked-up brain

Align

With yours

Because I am not so old that I cannot change

And you are not so young that you cannot choose

And between us there is love

And between us there is faith

And kindness

And respect

Between us there is skin

That is soft to the touch

But that does not keep us apart

And so

Perhaps

By God’s Grace

Our love is not doomed

God is Good

I kneel on my prayer mat

And pray to my God

Who has taken your God’s name

And I thank God

For God is good

Listen

Listen to the words

Listen to the gaps between the words

Listen to the silences

And the gaps between them

Just listen

And try to hear

And if I can’t hear

Try again

To listen

The things she doesn’t say

She is like God

She doesn’t say I love you

She doesn’t say did your father die?

She doesn’t ask how do you feel?

She never says I love you

With her lips or her eyes

Or with her touch

But I still need to believe

Ria

The world is too full of stimulation

It exhausts her

All the people exhaust her

She can lay for hours

Processing in her room

She can lay for days

In her room

The heat exhausts her

She is semi-nocturnal

She goes out to take pictures

With her mind

And with her camera

Which she edits

In her room

People exhaust her

She loves the shops

But won’t go in

If there are people

Like me

Who exhaust her

I exhaust her

So she goes to her room

Bale Benong

Sometimes I think I could live forever

With you in your room

And me in my bale benong

With my thoughts

And my words

And my English tea

And we would send telepathic messages

That would be understood

Or misunderstood

And we would meet for dinner in the kitchen

Bringing our understandings

And misunderstandings

With us

Villa Ria

I will build you a house between the city and the beach,

And it will be your house

Because in Bali I cannot own land

I will build you a haven where you can rest and grow

And it will be your house

Because it is my gift to you

And you will have your own sanctuary

And I will have my pool

And my bale benong

And you will disappear on secret missions

And I will drink tea and write

And perhaps I will grow old

We will build us a house, that is a haven

Between the city and the beach

And it will be your house

But our home

My body

My body will just get older

Whilst yours is still young

And I will go from being a man

To being an old man

And my health will fail

And I will go from being your man

To being an old man

And instead of caring for my soul

You will need to care for my body

And I will want to die

Because I want to live forever

With you

If ever I should come to die

If ever I should come to die

Feed my body to the pigs I didn’t eat

Then burn the pigs

And throw the ashes in the sea by a cliff near a blue striped cafe.

If ever I die

Take the poems I wrote for you

And read them all aloud

Once

Then burn them

And bury their ashes deep in the ground

Far from your heart

And never ask me what they meant

When I die

Take all your thoughts

Of all the things I gave to you

And took from you

And burn them with pigs

And throw them in oceans

And bury them in holes

And live

Revelation

Slowly

Through His Grace

She is revealed

To me

BIO: Dr. Pat Johnston is a poet and former neuroscientist. His work appears in Love and Literature, Argyle Literary Magazine, and other journals. He writes about memory, madness, masculinity, and myth with equal measures of reverence and demolition. He lives between Australia and Southeast Asia.