Day 5: Ubin, abandoned (Amirdha)

In every nook and cranny, the ocean presents itself

Quarries to lakes to puddles

To that leeway among boulders

Wrinkling the sand with age and use

An ancient watch

Whispering gently when calm

Crashing with and crushing rocks

The lagoon loses its tranquility

The rock turns crimson

As what was once revered and vital

Now sits abandoned, lonely

Fishing now an amusement for the crowd

A home then, now a vacation

Losing value, losing meaning

Old villages only seen by gravestones, shut wells

All that has expired

After use, a diamond that just lost its value

With no shield, the candle gives no light

Diminished and reduced,

Plastic floats, houses now ghost

Fluid and flexible, the ocean embraces

Blocks path but the human is smart

They leave the spot

An uncountable army without its commander,

It races for meaning in everywhere

Rocking waves turn choppy savage

As the number of boats in between become fewer

Industrial, commercial, but not a return home

Conquered place it once was, now it is ours

Ours to make, but we break it,

Reduce it everyday

Humiliation causes the rocks to blush crimson

heritage Gone,

as places bare, naked beneath the flimsy grass

It becomes nothing, worthless, desolate

The monkey stares Lost, Threatened

Who are we? These newcomers

Connection lost

What is the new without the old?

Maintaining our identity, once a strive

now a Burden

Recreational now

Learnt about through lessons

As if it is something that was far far away

Rough paths and tall trees

Now a learning journey

Oh the irony!

A tourist in home

Where do we know?

This poem is a reflection by me of what has become of Ubin and how it has went from a home, a place we knew by heart to the pathetic loss of connection there is now. I realised the importance of maintaining our identity when I was in Ubin. It has been there through our growth and now that we are older, we cannot forget the old because no matter what, one’s past is always the key to one’s future. Even more heartbreaking is that Ubin has become somewhere we go for learning journey to observe something or learn something. To me, that is like going to a museum or something that has been finalised and lived to its fullest potential. Ubin can be more than this, it should be alive and lived, not observed. With that strong sadness and indignance, I wrote this poem.