An eagle who lives on top of the cliff,
knows well the meaning of solitude.
If you think she chooses it, boy how you’ve misunderstood!
On the sky, people look at her as a heartless strength.
What they don’t see, there’s insecurity in her searching.
I’m the only one who knows her better.
I’ve watched her.
More than sometimes, she would move so fast,
together with the wind, her only companion.
Like this afternoon,
a day when all people say a good day,
where none of the clouds are around,
I hear her scream – loud and painful.
She looks up straight to the sun
And move towards it, as fast as if she goes for a hunt.
But this time, I don’t see the perseverance in her eyes.
I see despair.
My heart goes the same speed she’s in.
“Does she choose today to finally throw all of her fences - who she is - what she is - or how she is all this time? Is this how she would admit defeat?”
Should I know now - nothing kills greater
than a confirmation of life failures?
I look above and hope she would look me back.
Buat I only feel a tiny splash of water on my palm.
It’s her tear…
In the end, she doesn’t see that I’ve watched her,
as the sun grabs her and burns her good.
I weep and weep and weep and weep… maybe for eternity.
…cause there’s gone a beauty of solitude sadness…
Has the world a humble mercy…?
She only misses her husband.
She only wants her son.
