Lamenting in Suffering

Yusuf Achmad

My poem laments, an unbearable silent cry,
The cough echoes, each dawn feels torturous,
Shaking the silent stone walls, then I say,
“Go get treated, avoid the shamans or street medicine vendors.”

“Don’t want to see a doctor,” my poem says weakly,
“Why? Are you hungry, why are you trembling?”
I ask in wonder, “The doctor is harsh, without the gentleness of a hand,
Like claws that hurt,” my poem answers bitterly.

For a moment, my poem speaks clearly,
The doctor gets annoyed because of frequent check-ups,
Asking for a referral but getting scolded,
“This cough can’t be cured,” the doctor says without compassion,
Why isn’t there any suggestion given, my poem wonders worriedly.

My poem questions the growing pain,
Is the doctor afraid of loss?
Or is the clinic’s operating license at stake?
The BPJS premiums are never absent, but without payment, lives are shattered.
My poem contemplates, not knowing where to go,
Coming to my room, asking with full curiosity,
“Once my sibling had a mental disorder,
The hospital demanded the BPJS arrears to be settled immediately,
Confused, my sibling became more disoriented, trapped in an unclear system of reckoning.”

Now this poem continues to brood,
Not knowing where to speak,
Its fate remains hanging, the cough never subsides,
My sibling roams, searching for answers in a sea of legal uncertainty,
BPJS, why do you punish?

Surabaya, 29-12-2024