Papua’s Hopes and Tragedies

Tragedy & Hope
The household is divided.
Comrades are betrayed.
Destruction of comradery comes from within; the enemy’s weapon is wielded by brother against brother.
Two brothers fighting for control of a sinking boat is the reason the boat sinks.
He fights his brother over dinner as the enemies burn his house down.
Slander is louder than the redemptive logos.
Fighting over war brings death to the fighting forces.
The learned seek solitude.
Blind leaders lead the masses to suicide.
Defeated commanders give the innocent false hope.
Fools give their own funeral speeches on the enemy’s podium.
The oppressed resent themselves more than their oppressors.
The oppressed have one hope, but love and trust are destroyed among them.
Lips scream the truth, hearts are interminable shadows.
A corpse attracts more flies than the living.
The name of God is used to conceal evil schemes.
Evil schemers cannot see God’s departure from thy part.
The Devil resigned; his followers outperformed him.
Logic and truth, titles and medals… these all have no meaning for a rabbit – the wolf’s dinner.
Self-conception begins with refusing to be eaten.
Love saves hope.
Trust is a cornerstone in human relations.
Hope is an arch of destiny.
Destiny is home.
And when home is divided, no destiny awaits.

Fighting my brother more than my enemy.
Friends are deserted, allegiances are tested
like a game of chess with turncoat pawns
watch us tear each other apart.
The courage of a fool is greater than the foresight of the wise
a storm in the night is more dangerous than a whisper in daylight.
The screaming is too loud, it drowns the words out.
A holy cause contaminated with impurities-
like a castle whose walls are breached by enemy forces, leaving its inhabitants vulnerable to distrust.
Resistance leaders dance on enemy podiums, delivering their own funeral speeches.
The enemy is working; the resistance is sleeping-
we’re already dead.
The priests take the imaginations of the oppressed to the sky, while their bodies are tortured beneath the earth’s soil.
The old ones are buried along with the original story – an ancient library.
The present is poisoned with illicit substances, leeching into the future, contaminating its path.
Too much distraction blurs the vision, everything becomes distorted; the noise of a thunderstorm muffles the bird’s song.
United in one hope but divided in love.
Love is what gives hope –
Hope… providing a safe harbor in a sea of despair.
We are plants competing for the sun’s light, vying to establish our roots with Mother Earth.
Mother Earth gives birth-
her offspring fight for survival – the strong survive, the weak return to her embrace.
What lies beyond this life is seemingly simple, but humans are split by tenets of faith and belief-
the irrational and mysterious arrangement terrifies and excites us.
We are the past and the future.
What we do now determines their fates-
like great tapestries of our society – threads of the past interwoven with threads of the future.
We are the master weavers of our destiny and fate.

Resurrected Spirit
Take a stand.
Renew your spirit.
Sanctify it.
Sacrifice it for a cause.
Bring light, not darkness.
Beat the resurrection drum.
A tsunami is coming.
Now is the time to build Noah’s ark.
It is time for a rescue plan.
See a future in the making.
Find a high point and observe the tragic scenery.
Tragedy with a new beginning on the horizon.

Adapt to everything that changes – staying afloat amongst the tides of an ever-changing ocean.
Embrace the awakening – a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.
Embrace the dance – a sprouting seedling bursting through the soil.
Sing with it – a bird chirping with the sunrise.
Renew with everything that is renewing – a flower opening its petals to the morning sun.

Revive with everything that is reviving – the blooming of flowers in the spring.
As everything dies, die with it – a tide that ebbs and flows. When it rises, you can ride it, and when it recedes you must sink with it.
Everything is reborn – a dormant seed in winter is reborn in the spring.

It is not over until we say it is.
We – not I, they, or you.
Only when we say ‘we’ can unlock the code for resurrection.

Tuesday, August 8, 2023
Sacred home of Jagera, Giabal and Jarowair people
Yamin Kogoya

I would like to dedicate this short prose to all Papuans and their comrades who are fighting for the independence of West Papua.

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