My Brother in My Arms

by Nicole Law

 

We fought
in the trenches
breathless gasps
the colour of my
breath the same
as yours a man
not yet twenty
treading carefully
the sleeping dragon
will not strike
I see no difference
his blood bleeds
his heart thuds
his hands hold
his eyes fix
yet he stumbles
undeterred by folding structures
he runs ahead of me
he works late into the night
he wonders why
he cannot see beyond his window       
side by side we laid down
burnt offerings for the gods
of choking incense
skin takes on a darker tinge
as yours my brother
a woman just like me
searching for a place
lest we wake
those poisonous barbs
a brother in my arms
between cheek and heart
the same dark red colour
the same dull thunder
the same glorious sky
on the same prize
I press onward
held closer to the light
held by invisible hands
held by silent prayers
the gap widens
while all I see are open skies

 

Nicole Law: I envisioned inequality across lines of race and socio-economic status as not two disparate issues but ones that are intrinsically intertwined. Issues of inequality pervade society, including Singapore, where the debate has reached a marked level of divisiveness. I conceived of inequality as a clear demarcation between two characters who are remarkably similar to one another though they are separated by their access to resources that allow one to get ahead of the other.

The twin-cinema poem format, which originated in Singapore in 2010, lends itself well to the idea I attempt to convey—that of two discrete columns of text that represent the perspectives of two men who differ in terms of race and socio-economic status. Read as two separate poems, it details the individual’s struggle and triumph against unequal structures which pit one man against the other. Read as one continuous poem from left to right, the meaning shifts, illuminating the fact that there is objectively little difference between the two men, although the division remains in the last few lines—“he cannot see beyond his window but all I see are open skies”. The functionality of the twin-cinema format grants different readings and interpretations of the poem and illustrates the multidimensional nature of inequality itself. It depends on the lens the viewer takes, at an individual level; we are reminded that each Singaporean is no different from any other—we have similar hopes and dreams. Yet the dominant narrative starts to crack upon the realisation that the structures that assist one group of persons may also artificially place limits on the ambitions of the other.

The start of the poem references the compulsory national service that applies to all male Singaporeans and forms a vital shared experience that seemingly leaves little room for division across the lines of race and socio-economic status. The spectre of the sleeping dragon appears towards the middle of the poem as an omen that inequality still lurks even in an objectively “equal” society—usually an undercurrent in daily conversation or choices. The thing I’ve observed about inequality and our inherent bias is that it underlies offhand remarks we make and wreaks damage on social cohesion, as evident from recent debates and incidents in Singapore involving racism and even recently classism. The inclusion of the “I” perspective on both the left- and right-hand sides of the poem weave in the perspective of the proverbial self who insists there is “no difference” although reality may paint a different picture. It also points to the reluctance of the younger generation to admit that sometimes there is still a residue of intrinsic bias that has been passed down through generations of misunderstanding. The poem concludes with a contrast between one character’s relentless striving which results in scant progress and a limited realisation of the “Singapore dream” and that of the other’s character’s steady assisted ascent such that “I” can no longer empathise with the other.

Published: Monday 4 October 2021

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Nicole Law is a writer based in Singapore. She often writes poetry in slivers of time on long bus rides home and believes that poetry is undoubtedly a necessity. She writes a weekly column for Adamah Media on contemporary issues and hosts a podcast on the intersection of faith and secularism. Her poetry is forthcoming in SingPoWriMo Issue #7 and A Given Grace Anthology.

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