Muammar Al Khadafi

I had wrote a lots of poems, hundred titles that some posted in this Blog in a label, categorized as  "Poem" and some wrote in a Writer's website - kemudian.com - under my maiden's name Leonard.

To read my own poem in front of crowded audiences, rather in a normal circumtance, felt like a flowing down water from the fountain to the river reach to the end to the quiet blue ocean. I had often read my own poetry in a rather smaller audiences or in a less formal ones.

But reading a Maestro poem had hitted my mind and soul very hard, a little bit scary, burdened my mind all day long.

On Thrusday night, December  24, 2009 I was appointed as one of tree readers to read 75 lines of Indonesian welknown maestro's poem, W.S.Rendra - deceased - scaring me to my toes. Despite a lots of rehearsals at home - in front of a wide board mirror - my self esteem didn't change, not until a day before D-Day. Fortunately, one of the tree apointed readers, Shinta Papa, read the poem on Net rehearsaled time, in front of the committee, including the instructor, Ms Anny Gosana.

Its not a sin to copied some of her body languages, tones, and later in the first, 4 pm Christmas service, Mr.Jugo, the first reader - talented tall and lean man - well performed. His faced right/left, step forward or backward, thunder voices sometime, slow, quiet some time with hand movement. I had paid a serious attention to all his movement, body languages, tones.

Then in my turn, in the second service at 6.30 pm, my self esteem had elevated after watching the other two readers in action, had prevented me of any possible mistakes.

Before I stepped down from the left aisle of the choir group aheaded to the main stage - I belong to the bass tone - my fellow senior friend, a retired gairy hair, Navy General, Mr.Budi Handoko, reminded me in a soft spoken said:  "Please don't read too fast - as I did in net rehearsal - and carefull not any missread words", he said in his thin lips curved.

After took a lots of prayers in silence mode, hymn humming was over, in high esteem, I spoke up slowly in the beginning. In some verses I spoke out loudly, and most of the time in loud out tones, especially in the word "war", some in a slow motion, my right hand movement tremble - while the left hand held a peom - when read the words "gemetar" means trembeling. I had stepped to right  side watching to the Christmas tree - a bamboo materials - when spoke the devastated tree,  turn left side, stepped forward, watching to the wall near ceiling, overhead of the aisle.

I kept my face upward gazed up to the upper wall near to the ceiling, not a single seconds had any eye contacted to the the crowded, 739 visitors. I had fully awared of the pew lines up to the balkon full seated, including the second floor overhead main doors, but I didn't care that its even existed.

I felt awesome, even later after the instructor extended her hand said :"Thank you, its very good, you got the feeling" she said with sincerely, big curve lips smile. She was the one beforehand, who worrisome if I didn't got Rendra, the author's feeling. I had thought she will never pretending praised my performance.
Praise only His name. Amin.I made it. I felt relieved, my shoulder's burden and tense relax, my breath's beat back to normal again.

This very Christmas, the Church decoration, the backdrop, carpet, even the shitrts of choir group all in black colour as a sign of misery, war enviroment, starving citizen, devastated trees, malfuntion of good institutions. To link this situation to the congregation, the songs and hymn tend to vow to the Lord, begging His mercy, praise the Lord of His generousity with request : "Let there be a peace on earth and let it begin with me".