Just Look

A little observation of
Little actions can tell
More about a person
Than you can imagine;

Watch the hands
See the movements
Listen to the words
Uncover the thoughts;

Little twitches and
Little comments made
Can suggest
A disturbed mind;

If there is
No physical ease
There can be
No mental clarity;

Just look:
You’ll know it.


(A moment of peace and quiet amidst sentry duty. Two line spacings don’t work on my mobile WordPress, so three dashes shall have to determine paragraphings and breaks.)

There are infinite number of lives all around us:

The ants hurrying about beneath our feet,

The grass that continuously grow unbeknownst to us,

The birds that chirp and the bees that buzz by;

To the ants the task of carrying it’s food around

Is everything in life that matters to them

While for the bees the job of collecting nectar

Is all that is important for them in their existence;

We watch the ants and the bees at work:

We think what they go about everyday is so minute

That their lives of carrying food and making honey

Is nothing too much to be concerned about;

Yet to them:

All that was ever worth worrying about in life

Is whether food can get safely to their nest

And if they can stay alive doing what they do;

What do you think the Universe thinks

When It sees us fretting over our next promotion

Or our academic exams and all the little things

That seem all so important to us?

If the Universe can show compassion to us,

What more to say of us to those we see as less than us?

At The Wet Market

It is seven and early in the morning:

The bustling Sunday wet market is filled with people –
Grannies buying chilli to be cooked with bean sprout for the family,
Mothers buying fruits for the health of their delicate young ones,
Father and son out getting groceries for a vegetarian lunch;

There in the vegetable store stands the usual vegetable men
In their singlets and Hokkien slangs they shout prices and promote their greens
Where housewives and maids haggle for an extra broccoli or tomato
While the market grows busier and noiser as the morning passes by the minute;

There amongst the crowd works a young girl – no more than seventeen:
She is working up a sweat selling vegetables and collecting money
Where her hands smell of coins and a mixture of different roots and greens
Not exceptionally experienced she appears but enough to be of help;

Possibly a family business it is for her and a good vacation experience
Helping out at the vegetable store in the wet market –
Something which most teenagers these days do not get to go through
And who likely are not willing to dirty their hands or work up a sweat;

To tolerate the smell of all the different meats and vegetables in the wet market,
To learn to appreciate the redolence created by a variety of produce is
In itself a process not many are willing to go through or to adopt for a living
Even if it brings a reasonable income – contentment can be of question;

it is nonetheless a good experience and a profession as any other
Though not necessarily one that is suitable for every other;

It is seven and early in the morning
At the wet market.