This Small Hand

Until you let go of this hand that you're holding so tightly,
I will stand by you.
Run around and dream with confidence, my baby,
Whenever you fall,
I will be with you.
I know you will let go of this hand,
And fly away someday.
In case the world tires you out,
Don't forget there is a place where you can always return.

Silent Melancholy of Men

Two years ago,

On a dusty wind-swept street of Taiwan,

Words from friends pierced through the many veils and barriers that I have placed over the years,

Right through to the abyss of my heart,

Where all my fears and regrets have been tangled and hidden from even myself.

Two years ago,

On a return flight from Taiwan,

Regretful tears cascaded down.

I was still not half the man that I wanted to be.

Two years later,

Sitting along a bustling roadside eatery in Vietnam,

Five friends shared about their burdens, regrets and challenges.

The silent melancholy of men was heard,

And hearts become intertwined;

Sharing each other’s load,

And becoming each other’s anguish and pain. 

Despite the sheen, the poise, the demeanour, that we exude daily,

We are still just a man.

We are fallible.

We make mistakes.

Many times and over and over again.

We carry our burdens,

And sometimes carry others' burdens too,

As a leader would. 

We cry tears too,

Often silently and in our hearts.

Yet we fight on.

For we cannot be seen as weak in the societal roles that we play.

We don’t talk about these often enough,

Yet we want to be heard.

We also play the role of a son.

And sometimes because of these two words: 证明,
We want to do too many things,

We get lost in the wilderness, 

We deviate from our paths.

We work hard for approvals,

And view it as love.

And when it is withheld,

We burn, we pine and we perish.

We just want to be loved,

By people close and near.

A child wants to make the parents proud,

But all the parents want,

Is for the child to be happy.

Two years later,

On a return flight from Vietnam,

I stifle a sniffle,

And soldier on.

I Will Be The Light

3 months ago,
I desperately asked for a chance:
Let me walk in the light.
I have strayed from the light so many times.
I made up excuses to assuage myself.
I ran and ran and did nothing.

The fervent wishing suddenly morphed,
Into a concrete understanding and belief -
I will walk in the light.
Suddenly,
The light behind the glowing molten door didn’t seem so far away and unreachable anymore.
I’m basking in the light.

Let me be the light.
The enlightenment transcends.
Heart opened,
A strange overwhelming desire engulfed me.
Can I really be the light?
For those close and near.

I will be the light.
I can be the safe harbour.
I can be the gentle moonlight.
I can be the silent sunshine.
I can be the invisible hand.
I can and I will.

So this is how almost dying feels like.