MSG’s Noise and Silence
Vibrant hues of orange, red and yellow dance across the barren landscape on scorched soil.
Colours of fading light reflected in the shadows of a tragic landscape – the sound of innocents reverberating.
A heavy cloud of despair hangs in the air as children’s anguish echo into nothing.
Thunderous gunshots spread terror.
Into the lake of blood all tears flow.
Children in torment pray to heaven for help.
Ancient drums keep sleepless orphans awake – raining tears from heaven, each calling for mercy and salvation.
An unforgettable tapestry of blue, green, red, white, and black swirl around a black body.
The ancient voices of war, cry for a highly anticipated victory.
Drumbeats of resurrection sound day and night, like a crescendo of an orchestra building up to a majestic climax.
All eyes are on the lighthouse across from the sea of despair.
Keeping all ears tuned in to the desired direction.
All energy is directed toward one goal, like a laser beam.
The sacrifices toward one goal – like a ship with only one sail, concentrating all its power on a single point of aim.
Ancestor spirits are called into service, the sacrifices of the living are made in hope of achieving a common goal, a relay, a race where everyone passes the baton to the next runner.
Searching in the shadows of the night sky for answers – waiting for a signal from the stars.
Football matches – anticipating the grand final with suspense and anticipation.
As the clock ticks down, a restless body awaits the final whistle.
Restless souls mourn like caged birds seeking freedom.
Excited by dreams – they seek fulfillment but remain unfulfilled.
Hope and uncertainty collide like two magnets drawing and repelling each other in a dance of anticipation.
Gut butterflies torment and excite already frigid bodies – anticipation and fear of the unknown coexist.
All seems strange, like the feeling of waiting for the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.
All the world has crumbled into a crescendo of silence, as if hit by a tidal wave of soundlessness.
Calls, text messages, Twitter, Facebook, all are suspended.
The rain ceases.
Flowering gardens halt.
Birds retreat into silence.
Cockroaches unable to move.
All lights turn off.
Intermittent cosmic gravity.
Sun obscured by dark clouds.
Morning star awaits, brighter than ever.
Holding each breath waiting for something new to emerge.
All await in hope and despair for your verdict with numbness, dizziness, excitement, and worry.
Tortured souls await your guiding light.
Decide on my fate.
Bring a new era.
Bring back the noise.
Reactivate my frozen nerves.
Launch the rain dance.
Brighten the morning star.
Remove the dark cloud from the sun.
Score the goal.
Let me sleep well.
Let me eat well.
Wipe my tears.
Stop bullet sounds.
Write new lyrics of celebration.
Be the hope for the hopeless.
Be the strength for the weak.
Bring smiles not sorrow.
Be the lighthouse for exhausted Morning Star sea voyagers.
Deliver a rescue verdict.
Lie Melanesian offspring’s new cornerstone.
Decide now what the past and future will be.
All is in your hands – big men.
This poem conveys the intense emotions felt by those awaiting the MSG’s final decision on West Papua’s membership on Wednesday, August 24, 2023.