by Chua Han Au

the world is solemn
mornings crack open with the squeals of infants
nights begin with the querulous mewing of abandoned cats

I come back home with dusty tables
and artificial winter

in the press
lay the detonation of protests repeated
taking up more than half the page
overshadowing novel discoveries and benevolent acts

but look closely —
we attempt to bandage the grotesque chasms we’ve created
through scientific discoveries and revolutionary remedies
to ignite a flame of hope in a dark abyss

we like to think that there is hope
we like to think that what propels us is the sheer possibility of success and unprecedented glory
we negate the probabilities of failure because we are

while the creation of a vehicle
is for transportation
an accident calls for self-preservation
and so, notwithstanding the very blood that runs
in all of our veins
being indicative of equality,
we seek otherwise

the world is solemn
because we make it to be