Leni Marlina’s Poems Collection: “KNOWLEDGE AND THE CONSCIENCE OF HUMANITY”

/1/

BEFORE WE KNEW

Poem by Leni Marlina

–

We did not yet know what words were
when the world had already slapped the tongue with bitterness
and crammed the scent of iron into our lungs.

We learned from wounds, salty, stubborn
from breath snagged in the chest
that was never granted permission to be named.

Language arrived too late,
dragging itself on a crippled leg,
gathering scattered voices,
then forcing life into order.

Do not demand that we be perfect and straight.
Life is not always neat.
It is ragged, bleeding,
yet it still commands us to stand.

Books slowly open their bodies,
warm, pulsing,
like flesh asking to be trusted.
Dust sniffs our hands and asks:
have you come to understand and create,
or merely to know and then rule at will?

This place may not be safe for you.
It is a narrow corridor
where we lower our heads,
tighten our breath,
and swear:
better to be temporarily ignorant yet able to feel
than briefly clever
but numb as a standing corpse.

–

Melbourne, Australia, 2012

—

/2/

KNOWLEDGE AND THE CONSCIENCE OF HUMANITY

Poem by Leni Marlina

–

O Teachers, you once said
knowledge does not fall from the sky;
it crawls out of salty wounds,
clings to the tongue,
refuses to heal so memory stays sore.

Morning breaks into the skull
with the breath of wet earth,
sits in the conscience without permission,
forcing the eyes to learn how to see
without the hammer of judgment.

We carry words like broken bones;
they explode in the ears of the age,
while silence grows old in the folds of skin,
stuffed full of truths
never given the chance to be questioned.

Books pulse on stuffy shelves;
their pages warm like chests longing for an embrace.
Dust knows knowledge never dies—
it only waits
for honest hands to arrive.

Learning is not filling a hollow,
but knocking on bone until it knows its limits;
thinking is not rising upward,
but bowing
until the back aches
and the feet recognize the ground.

Knowledge removes its shoes,
sits on the floor of suffering;
trembling hands touch the wounds of others,
hear screams without archives,
inhale nameless fear.

The world demands speed—we refuse.
We make education a small fire in the chest,
warm enough to remain human:
not a clever machine,
not a mouth stuffed with terms,
but a body and soul capable of compassion.

Teacher, you are gone,
yet your voice strikes our blood;
we carry it wherever we walk,
for life is not merely triumph,
but a wager
on the conscience of humanity.

–

Melbourne, Australia, 2012

—

/3/

THE BOOKSHELF AFTER DISMISSAL

Poem by Leni Marlina

–

The bookshelf stands like aging lungs,
inhaling silence, exhaling dust
scented with iron, mold, and weary paper.

Its wood remembers the pressure of time;
its cracks creak softly
when thought approaches
then retreats
without opening anything.

Dust arranges silent archives,
writes calendars with ashen fingers:
here a hesitant hand once paused,
here intention collapsed
before it could be named.

Pages pulse gently,
warm, almost skinned,
holding whispers
that cling to the ear
longer
than stern advice.

Knowledge does not ask to be memorized.
It chews on years,
spits out half-cooked conclusions,
then smiles faintly
when someone reads
without the hunger to prevail.

When the room is empty,
the shelf is not lonely.
It knows:
patience is the highest form
of wisdom
not yet summoned home.

–

Melbourne, Australia, 2012

—

/4/

NOTES FROM THE LEARNING ROOM

Poem by Leni Marlina

–

A learning room sometimes smells of broken chalk,
worn markers, restrained sweat;
the air clots bitter
like breath swallowed in the throat.
Sometimes it is cool:
computer labs, glowing air conditioners,
machines humming softly
like prayers spoken with patience.

Yet the walls are always the same:
they swallow whispers, store the secrets of tongues.
The floor memorizes shoeprints
arriving with hope,
leaving with new burdens
on the spine of the day.

Learning begins
when certainty snaps inside the mouth:
the dry sound heard only by oneself;
salty, humiliating,
unable to be swallowed,
too ashamed to spit out.

Desks straighten their wooden backs,
memorizing elbows, pulse beats,
the small tremor before a voice is born.
The clock ticks like a foreign heart,
forcing the mind to run
when the soul wants to sit and breathe.

Knowledge removes its shoes.
It walks on the stories of others,
its soles blistered by screams
never guaranteed entry into archives.
It smells fear,
failure,
hope dying mid-sentence.

At this point education is misunderstood:
demanded to be fast,
smooth, slick, ready-made.
It is forced to smile
a smile that snaps time’s neck,
wipes blood away with terminology,
names wounds so they appear neat.

We choose to pause
without stopping movement.
To walk slowly while listening
until ears ache,
until backs burn.
For only through pain
does knowledge learn to breathe,
and conscience grows not as ornament,
but as a wound
that chooses to remain open,
so humans do not forget
how to feel
and care for one another.

–

Melbourne, Australia, 2012

—

/5/

WE ARE NOT FINISHED

Poem by Leni Marlina

–

Do not close that book too quickly.
Silence has not finished working
in your bones.

Words collapse from meaning,
leaving only pulse
in the chest, in the temples,
in steps no longer light.

Not every reading deserves to be memorized.
Some must be allowed
to become scent:
the smell of fear you recognize,
the smell of wounds you admit,
the smell of human suffering
you cannot deny.

Do not boast of knowledge.
It must learn to bow,
remove its shoes,
walk across the pain of others
without reward.

If this poem leaves anything behind,
let it be unease
that restrains your hand
before judging,
silences your tongue
before claiming to know best.

We are not finished.
Learning is not complete.
As long as bodies can still ache
and hearts can still tremble,
we choose to live consciously,
with wounds,
and with humanity
we hold close
even when the world demands
we let it go.

–

Melbourne, Australia, 2012

———-

About the Poet – Leni Marlina

Leni Marlina was born in Baso, Agam Regency, West Sumatra, Indonesia, and is currently based in Padang, West Sumatra. She is a poet, writer, and lecturer in the English Literature Program at the Faculty of Languages and Arts, Universitas Negeri Padang, where she has taught since 2006.

Her recent works include the single-author poetry collections The Beloved Teachers (2025) and L-BEAUMANITY: Love, Beauty, and Humanity (2025), as well as the English Stories for Literacy trilogy (2024–2025).

In addition to poetry, Leni actively writes short stories, essays, literary criticism, and reviews, and translates literary and journalistic texts for national and international digital platforms. Her work consistently positions language as a space for reflection, empathy, and the affirmation of human dignity.

Alongside her academic career, Leni is deeply involved in literary and cultural journalism. She works as a freelance writer and contributor to various digital media and serves as editor and editorial staff for several outlets, including Suara Anak Negeri News and Negeri News, both of which focus on education, literacy, literature, culture, and humanitarian values—guided by a shared commitment to giving voice to the voiceless.

Her contributions to literature have earned national and international recognition. She received the Best Writer Award 2025 from SATU PENA West Sumatra at the 3rd International Minangkabau Literary Festival (IMLF-3), chaired by Sastri Bakry. She is also the recipient of the ACC International Literary Prize 2005 from the ACC Shanghai Huiyu International Literary Creative Media Centre and received an international literary honor from The Rhythm of Vietnam (2025).

Since 2025, Leni Marlina has served as Indonesia’s Poetry Ambassador for the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association (ACC SHILA) and as ASEAN Director for ACC SHILA Poets. In the same year, she was appointed National Director (Indonesia) for the Panorama International Literary Festival (PILF) by the Capital Writers International Foundation, for the festival held in India (January–February 2026).

—
The Indonesian edition of Leni Marlina’s poetry collection, “KNOWLEDGE AND THE CONSCIENCE OF HUMANITY”, can be explored through the official link below. In this collection, readers are invited on a contemplative journey through language, reflection, and the depths of the human spirit:

Kumpulan Puisi Leni Marlina: “ILMU DAN NURANI KEMANUSIAAN”