AT MANDAI

Before the War our countryside enveloped
You and me, helped stitch prepositions
To exponential numbers roaming among
Dainty custard apples. For the inquisitive,
Slightly disobedient, there were little
Infinities in sound in light in the ant's
Unexpurgated sting...or how four fingers moved
To make a convenient abacus. Everything
Narrated. Syabas! Grandma's tales
Were tragically real but where was Swatow
Anyway! We dreamt of them as fantasies,
As games which adults played.
 
Exploding rubber seeds; durian trees in flower:
 
Daily rhythms gradually subverting into
Time into power to compute, arranging
The shaded layers of memory, inventing
Movement in the mind, transact for toys; how
Cajole and manage. These were somewhat, you might
Think, latterday. Before, shifting dioramas
Of colour forms adventure directing child's
Eye released with morning weaving batik sun
Sliding down Mandai Hill into valleys till
Dark intimidations, favourite treetops
Floating on mist, construe. The first birds fly
Decisively; a breeze begins as light achieves.
 
Mandai to city connect beginnings departures and
 
Returns...with no anointing by the sky no
Blessing from the earth no healing by wind
No bounty except the spirit's wholeness from
Father to son commemorating the road forebears
Took when hunger sang when muscle tested rock.
O city all is made redone rewritten reinforced,
Traditional impart, all still looking for means
Ends hastenings margins hinterland calm
Judging eye and hesitations of the noble
Heart. There are older voices. Avenues were
Streets before; gleaming condos replaced
Ancestral homes, extended celebrations.
 
We move, adjust, discover yet again
There are two imaginings, perhaps
More, between pages, between lines,
Ways to unfold, digest visions.

Edwin Thumboo