Artwork No. 708 by Starcom Indonesia, assisted by AI)
Leni Marlina’s Poetry Collection: “Counting the Steps of Longing”
(Padang, Indonesia)
/1/
Counting the Steps of Longing
By: Leni Marlina
When your heart longs for the land of your birth,
you count the steps of yearning along roads scarred in charcoal,
but your footprints are no mere shadow.
They are the dust of longing,
clinging to every corner of the night.
The city sky borrows its hue from the concrete,
unlike the sky of your village,
which spills its blue across the shoulders of the rice fields.
Here, the lights tremble,
like prayers that have forgotten their verses.
You walk,
bearing a longing without shape,
like a leaf adrift in a seasonless wind.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/2/
A Song from Afar
By: Leni Marlina
You ache for the morning hymn of your village,
but here, the wind speaks,
not the wind that whistles,
but the wind that pulls your feet
toward the land where rice bends in solemn silence.
How fares the orange sky beyond the mountain’s edge?
Do the birds still weave its lines?
Here, the sky gleams too brightly,
like a fractured mirror
reflecting a strange city.
You yearn to return,
but your steps falter,
lost on a path that no longer smells of earth.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/3/
A Dialogue with the Old House
By: Leni Marlina
The house,
painted in dust and fallen leaves,
opens its door in your dreams.
“You are still here,” it whispers,
though only as a shadow
clinging to the cracks of the walls.
The walls speak:
they remember the soft laughter you once scattered
through the seams of time.
But now,
you stand before a cold window,
seeking the faint warmth
in glass that refuses to mirror you.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/4/
Silence in the Suitcase
By: Leni Marlina
On a fragment of an evening that yearns,
you open the suitcase,
and longing spills out like dust
long kept behind lock and key.
The clothes within still bear the scent of home,
but its fragrance fades,
siphoned away by the city’s machines.
In every fold of fabric,
a forgotten story hides.
Your hands tremble,
not from the chill,
but from the fear of losing
the last trace of your way home.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/5/
The Rain That Never Returns
By: Leni Marlina
When you picture the distant village,
here, the rain falls like pebbles,
leaving sharp echoes on metal roofs.
Not like the rain in your village,
which descends gently,
whispering prayers to the coconut leaves.
You try to recall—
the tinkling of water in the red soil,
the scent of mud mingling with the air.
But here,
the rain only reminds you
of the distance that widens.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/6/
A Letter to the Fields
By: Leni Marlina
When you remember your vast fields,
you write upon old paper,
your letters growing like roots
in barren ground.
“Are you still green?” you ask the fields,
where your small feet once danced.
Outside, the city’s dry wind blows,
carrying dust that clings to your skin.
But your letter never reaches the fields,
for the fields only know the sound of rain
and the scent of morning you left behind.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/7/
Laughter Left Behind the Door
By: Leni Marlina
That door no longer opens for you.
Its hinges rust,
like memories that have waited too long.
Behind that door,
you once heard your mother’s laughter,
warm as the embers in the hearth.
Now, that laughter is but a shadow
swallowed by the mist,
fading each time you draw near.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/8/
The Night in the Village
By: Leni Marlina
You dream of your homeland,
but in your dreams,
the roads have turned to streams,
and the houses sink within them.
Is this truly your village?
Or is it merely a memory misreading the map?
The sky is too dark,
no moon hanging over the rice fields.
You search for direction,
but each step takes you deeper
into a village that exists only in your dreams.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/9/
Between Books and Prayers
By: Leni Marlina
In the corner of your room,
you are surrounded by mute books.
You read word by word,
but none of them bring you home.
The prayers you whisper each night
flow like a small river,
wearing down the pebbles in your heart.
Yet that river never reaches
the land where the banana trees
still wait for your name.
Canberra, Australia, 2012
/10/
The Light Behind the Curtain
By: Leni Marlina
You draw the curtain,
seeking the light that once graced your village.
Here, the lamps shine too brightly,
like eyes that never blink.
In your village,
the light came from a small lantern,
softly glowing upon the dining table.
You draw the curtain closed,
not out of fear of the light,
but to hold on to the warmth of the darkness
beneath that old roof.
Note
The Indonesian original title of this poems collection is “Menghitung Langkah Rindu”. This collection of poems was initially written by Leni Marlina in 2012 as a personal hobby and private anthology during her participation in the International ACLAR Conference on Children’s Literature in Canberra and while pursuing a Master Program in Writing and Literature in Australia, funded by a scholarship from the Indonesian government. The poems were later revised and first published digitally in 2024.
Leni Marlina is currently an active member of the Indonesian Writers Association, the SATU PENA branch of West Sumatra. She is also an active member of the International Poetry and Literary Community (ACC) in Shanghai, where she serves as Indonesia’s Poetry Ambassador to the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association.
Additionally, Leni is involved with the Victoria Writers Association in Australia. Since 2006, she has been dedicated to teaching English Language and Literature at the Faculty of Language and Arts, State University of Padang.
Leni has also founded and leads several digital communities focused on literature, education, and social causes, including:
1. World Children’s Literature Community (WCLC): https://rb.gy/5c1b02
2. International POETRY-PEN Community
3. PPIPM (Pondok Puisi Inspirasi Masyarakat):
https://shorturl.at/2eTSB
https://shorturl.at/tHjRI
4. Starcom Indonesia Community (Starmoonsun Edupreneur Community Indonesia): https://rb.gy/5c1b02
