At Home: Entryway

This series of prose and poems were written for an installation presented as part of the Singapore Night Festival 2022, titled "At Home - Meditations on Love" by artist Mariel Chee. Beyond those contexts, these works can be read as reflections across the spaces indicated; cues to find new meaning in the familiar or stretch into the feelings and questions that already exist.

Home is your hand that clutches the door the same way they clutch my arms; a lifetime of mornings spilled across walls of prayers and house blessings, our dolled-up and attentive faces against half-awake banter. With a final reassuring goodbye to bid the day hello, we smile and

Patience opens the door for me even though I insist that I can do it all, I’m not that type of person that needs my doors opened for me. My grimace is burdened by the weight of weary shoulders and the angry traffic that bites my tongue; my arms are brandished with the marks of laptop bags far too large for me and a table far too uncomfortable for me. But late in the night when we’re speaking softly, I can admit that maybe I am all types of persons: I know when love is given and when love is due, and

Kindness comes in the form of you not insisting that I gave you the wrong date for my lunch appointment with a friend, leaving you high and dry and “What should you eat for lunch? I don’t know, I’m late!” – you want to say something, but you don’t. Instead, forgiveness sits with you at the foot of the gate gazing out at my silhouette as I leave, and

Truth does not sweep everything out the door the same way I’m hasty to run from this frustration your frustration is making me feel. It pulls us in, and for a moment this entryway seems small and shaky, breathing and sighing, so tight it cannot be opened – and I’m not sure if I want to open it again – then someone lets slip:

“Sorry, I was wrong”

And for a second it hovers above us, like the only light in a dim room. Where before I only saw you in part, now I see you in full.

Truth lets us see face to face.