Tears of Solitude

By Kee-Man Chuah (03-10-13)

The Promised Land
By Kee-Man Chuah (08-09-13) Morning sunshine. The birds sang the tunes of liberty. I walked slowly to the field, sniffing the clean air, looking for happiness. Then I recognised the scent: sweats, a familiar stale odour of hard work, the smell of comfort and calmness at my grandparents’ place. We have to plant the seedlings, she said, to save enough, to put you in school, so that one day, you will succeed in this promised land. Looking towards the vast green, If I work hard, will I succeed? I asked. My grandpa smiled, No promises, you must work hard he said, to get what you want, never stop working hard, one day, you will succeed in this promised land. But no promises, they said.

To have a chosen path In the fields of emptiness Keeping the feeling inside That hides the sadness. For each forsaken stride The tears fell silently Shaping a trail that dried That seemed very untimely. Yet, no one understands The audacity of hope In those begging hands That escorts every lope. To shed the lonely tears In search of a certainty Amidst cynicism and fears That is part of a destiny.