I hear the young laughter and chatter of those who now sit,
far above the blood that has long seeped into the soil
Layers of transcient youth

This is a quiet, vulnerable love,
the kind that comes with knowing too much,
and feeling too deeply.

I think of how you once were,
grey, accomplice to the murders
These roads, they once held truckloads
of men. and women. and babies.

You covered it up.
No markers, no reminders.
No ghosts.
Abruptly. As they died.

I long to peel back the layers of your scars,
to see your depth beneath this veneer of commercialism,
but I fear that in doing that, that I would hurt you further

So I sit and wipe out all of that,
because to love, one sometimes needs to forget.

So to the cosmopolitan vibe and trendy restaurants,
to the flashy cars and laid-back feel
To everything the condo property developers
promise in their glossy flyers,
I raise this glass of overpriced coffee
and say yes, I love Siglap, and I love my neighbourhood.

(Unbeknownst to many, Siglap was one of the sites of the Sook Ching massacre during the Japanese Occupation in 1942)

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