Press on MH370

When I heard of the missing plane from Malaysian Airlines in Africa, my heart sank...I could be on that very plane. How devastated the families must be. After I got back, there were still not much good news. I pray with all my heart that they will find the plane soon. I am glad that the whole world is coming together to work for good in finding the plane.

Here's a poem that I would like to dedicate to all the families and loved ones of the passengers and crews on board MH370.

All over 
High and low 
Wide and deep 
No cure is near 

Search continues 
One on one 
Multiplies by thousands 
Hope is far 

One clings on 
A thousand miles 
Hearts wail and mourn 
Terror strikes 

Uncertainties prevail 
Can one see 
Beyond debris 
Where and why 

Hijack or death 
Only God knows 
Lives come and go 
Hidden from eyes 

You and I 
Hug each other 
Pray to heavens 
Never give up 

Press on 
Seek and find 
That day is near 
Truth will arrive 


Please don't give up hope and don't despair. We join hands with everyone in the world to pray for you.

'The Calloused Hands' written for Basadi Balefatshe - An International Journey of a Woman

It's been a while since I wrote in this cavern.

I just got back from South Africa. Its been an enriching and wonderful experience. I've learnt so much and been blessed over and over by the places I visited and especially by the amazing souls that have touched my life while I am there. I've got a million stories to tell and a lot more to weave into stories that I know I will use someday.

I went there to perform in a musical play and also to engage in cultural exchange.

Here is a poem-story that I presented/performed for a musical play entitled ‘Basadi Balefatshe’ (World Women) – ‘An International Journey of a Woman’ at Joburg Theatre, Johannesburg, South Africa in conjunction with International Women’s Day. This poem-story was also told during an International Storytelling Festival at Pretoria, South Africa.

The story is a fiction inspired by the lives of some Asian women. However, the photo below is a real picture of me and my popo’s hands J

Me and Popo's hands

The Calloused Hands

Popo!!!! I call out in high pitch glee

Her wrinkles curve and smile at me

Happiness awakened from distrait

Finally after all those years of wait

I rush to her side, she coughs out blood

Lying on her deathbed without a word

Her body lays motionless but her eyes

Twinkle with whispers of love and cries

Tiny and frail hardly explains her body

More fragile than a new-born baby

She lifts up her bony shaky fingers

Cupping my face and let one lingers

Rough and dry her old skin against mine

Worse than burns from acid and alkaline

Her teary eyes pierces deep into my soul

Bringing me back to great times of old

********

Mama died when she gave birth to me

Papa sits in jail for raping her repeatedly

Popo brought me up with love and care

She took me in which was an act so rare

She woke up at five every morning

Chicken porridge was her best cooking

Alternating with butter buns and bread

There was nothing my taste truly dread

I was a noisy and naughty little girl

Always caught with my feet awhirl

She never spared me from the rod

Never to spoil but instil fear of God

When I behaved well, she would fry

Banana fritters so good you would cry

She would hug me and laugh out loud

Chasing rain from the hovering cloud

Popo’s hair was always in a small bun

Neat and tidy not a hair seen in front

Wraparound sarong tied with a knot

Her lips wearing a shade of red hot

Day and night she worked hard

Tending to vegetables in her yard

A kind soul, still sharing a fruit or two

Turning away the needy was a taboo

A storyteller at night with her hair down

Filled with tales to enchant and astound

Memoirs of her younger self and ah kong

My grandpa who had died forty years long

I once asked “Popo, are you not tired?”

Pointing upwards, her secret transpired

“My strength comes from high above”

“All is made possible in the name of love”

I continued, “Why did you choose to keep me?”

She held me tight and said, “Why would I flee?”

“God gave you to me, one of his greatest gifts”

“You’re innocent no matter who your papa is”

Time passed, I had to leave for university

Popo would come to see me in the city

Each time she grew shorter and shorter

While the hunch on her back grew bigger

Work began to eat away all my time

I strived to pay back every single dime

Popo was far from my heart and mind

I was exhausted after a long day’s grind

One day a phone call made my heart broke

Popo fell down the stairs and had a stroke

Panicking I prayed it was not too late

I had promised to bring Popo on a date

********

Her mouth opens wide gasping for air

I keep muttering that it is so unfair

She holds my gaze in blinking tears

Am I facing one of my biggest fears?

Popo softly moans “I’m going home”

“I am not leaving you alone to roam”

“Do not cry my cucu, I know you care”

“I will watch over you from up there”

Her calloused hands clasp mine tightly

Not letting go I grip them to me closely

“I love you” springs from her watery eyes

Breathes her last and to heaven she flies

p/s: If you like poetry, feel free to browse my poems at my previous posts labelled 'My Poems'.