From the pavement I mourn
a pigeon run over, cars unable
to swerve. Soon it will be gone.
Crunch. A space in the sky left
emptier, but that was not its home.
It belongs here, or elsewhere,
somewhere for life, the same through
the seasons where it always knows
to return. I am waiting
for a sign and maybe
this is it: a final homing flight,
a cross-pacific message
that I too cannot forget
where I come from.
Photo: Fuzail Ahmad (2019)
Poet Bio
Home?
Singapore/Anywhere
What is home to you?
When one's interiority finds coherence with one's external landscape. A fleeting sense of belonging, or an enduring commitment to building a life in a place or community.
Tan Jing Min grew up in a home of several tongues but can really only lay claim to the English language. She is in search of the golden thread of integrity throughout the web of her life.