February 10, 2015 by Wayne.
In the other malaysia, she sits by the balcony, watching
water rumble through sepia sky, the darkness already
growing in the spaces, leaking into the light.
Tomorrow, once the heat has returned, they will
walk in loose reformations,
laugh and drink from bottles,
thrown and trampled underneath,
here, there is space for much
moral erosion and moral policing,
but no space for growth,
or tolerance of questioning
or much at all
in time, we too will go forward,
ever forward, only
and days like today where the crying of turncoats outweigh the patter of feet on ground, these days will be recalled ever more sparingly
our youngest leaders will grow into their new roles,
and we will no longer cast curious glances behind,
But for now,
the darkness keeps growing and before she quite realises any finite point of time where it switched over, the day is long gone, and the city glares back at her through pinpricks of overhead lights and neon signs, and she dreams of a world where her father were here tonight.