UNREACHABLE MISSING

By: Rizal Tanjung

–

I was born in a faraway land, under the gray skies of Paris,
among the towering stone towers,
under the sparkling night lights that never go out.
But my soul always whispers softly,
about the land I’ve never stepped on,
about the house I’ve never seen,
about Papua—the land of my father’s blood.

I hear the howling of the wind on the Champs-Élysées,
but my heart longs for the breeze from the jungle,
the gentle breeze of the blue sea whispering against the coral,
the song of the waves singing on the white sandy beach.
I see the Seine flowing calmly,
but the river I miss is the wild Baliem,
are small streams that flow between green mountains,
a place where large stones bear witness to the history of my ancestors.

Here, in a foreign land,
I see the blue sky stretching without limits,
but my longing is for the bluer sky of Papua,
where the sun sets on the golden horizon,
and the twilight dances with colors that paintings cannot understand.

I am a child of two intertwined worlds,
half of my blood flows from the land of wine and bread,
the other half comes from the land where sago and areca nuts grow.

But my heart…
my heart always returns to the east,
to the place where my father was born,
to the villages whose names I have only heard through stories.

They ask,
why do my eyes stare far away when it rains?

Why do my fingers tremble when they touch the ground?

I want to say—
I miss the land I have never set foot on,

I miss the sound of the Cendrawasih birds in the morning,

I miss the cheers of children running in the fields of reeds,

I miss the campfires that burn in the middle of the night,

I miss the Honai houses that stand strong against time.

I want to smell the scent of the Papuan forest,
let my feet be bare on the warm red soil,
let my hands touch the old trees that hold the stories of our ancestors.

I want to sit on the edge of Lake Sentani,
watch small boats sail slowly,
hear the laughter of fishermen returning home with their catch.

Here, in French soil, I am a stranger.
My language is broken when I try to say my own name,
but in my heart, I know I am a child of Papua.

I am a girl who longs for something she never had,
I am a bird trapped in a golden cage,
seeing the vast sky, but unable to fly home.

Father, wait for me there,
in the land that you are proud of in your stories.

I will come,
I will step on the land of my ancestors,
I will let the water of the Papuan river wash my feet,
I will breathe the air that carries the breath of our ancestors.

If I die before I can return home,
sprinkle my ashes into the Papuan sea.

Let me return home,
let me be part of this land,
let me return,
even if only as the wind blowing among the mountains.

Because that is where my home is.

That is where my soul will be at rest.

16 Maret 2025.