With Turning Twelve
2019
Chong Yu An
Singapore
1917
walking on these uneven paths
I carry a heavy sack on my back:
groceries for the month.
The smell of food teases my stomach.
I think that comes and goes.
the streets are full:
people carry on with daily tasks
My heels rub against the rough floor
The sky blankets the vanishing moon
black birds soar as greens greet the sun,
For just a moment, I stop to look,
at what stretches above me.
The busy world,
Pauses.
The sky and I share a soft whisper,
(about possibilities of the future)
Grace Lim
Singapore
1917
I feel bound.
I hold what they say is all that matters.
(textbooks and assignments.)
My eyes burn with lost sleep,
with turning twelve.
children like me,
on the verge of breaking down.
as I walk to school,
at 6 in the morning,
cars zoom past as if the city never slept
I pause to observe,
Albeit for just a second,
the waking world,
Freezes.
chatting briefly before returning to our lives
(about stories of the past)