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Edwin Thumboo

THE EXILE

He was not made for

politics,
For change of principles
Unhappy days, major sacrifice.
Even a bit part in a tragedy-
Seemed most unlikely.
There was. in him a cool Confucian smile.
Some suitable history would have been
A place in the Family Bank,
Consolidated by a careful raatch,
A notable gain in family wealth,
/"~N-
A strengthening of the Clan.
An ordinary life, ordinary longevity.

Of these things his father sadly dreams.

He was not made for

politics.
But those days were China-wrought,
Uncertain of loyalties, full of the search
For a soul, a pride
Out of ancestral agony, gunboat policy,
The disaster of the Kuomingtang.
So the new people took him in
To cells, discussions, exciting oratory,
Gave him a cause.
The rich being- what they are have no cause
Until their wives are middle-aged.

Work quietly, multiply the cells

Prepare for the bloom of a hundred flowers.

The flowers came, fast withereth too.

Made conspicuous by principles

And the discipline of the group,
He thought to stand his ground, defy the law.
Ke-actionaries he said.

And so he stood in the dock.

Many documents were read. Those who planned
The demonstration, allotted tasks
Had run to fight another day - they had important work,
Could not be spared, were needed to arrange
More demonstrations.
Impersonally, the verdict was
Exile to the motherland,
A new reality.

He stood pale, not brave, not made for politics.

Original from and digitized by National University of Singapore Libraries