Amidst the Raging Flood

Amidst the Raging Flood

By Leni Marlina

You walk amidst the raging flood,  
The water, waist-high, clutches your body, cold and heavy.  
Mother, with breath labored, you clutch your sewing machine,  
Lifting it above your head as if saving your own life.

Muddy water grips your feet, yet in your chest,  
A hope remains afloat, though the world around it drowns.  
That sewing machine is more than a tool; it's the pulse of life,  
A legacy unwilling to be swept away,  
A hope carried with undying love.

In the distance, Father, with weary eyes,  
You bear a hoe and machete through water rising to your waist.  
Each step is a struggle against the current,  
Yet your hands never release those tools,  
Tools representing dreams buried in the mud,
Dreams unbroken by flood or storm.

You know, new land awaits at day's end,  
Even though today your fields are buried under relentless waters.

And the children,  
Little feet struggling through the water up to their chests.  
Cold seeps into their bones, yet their hands remain raised high,  
Protecting their bags and books, treasures that must not sink.

Drenched uniforms cling to your fragile skin,  
But within those bags lie dreams unwavering,  
Dreams carried with hearts full of resolve,  
Even as the flood of the night threatens to drown all hope.

You, Mother, Father, and the children,  
Do not carry sorrow amidst this disaster,  
But a belief deeper than the flood's onslaught.  
The waist-high water for adults and chest-high for children  
Cannot dismantle the spirit you uphold.

Your hopes persist, floating above the water,  
Like prayers never tiring in reaching the sky,  
And you believe, at the end of this night's flood,  
There will be new land and a sun waiting, warming unseen wounds.