In Vogue Singapore’s ‘Guardian’ issue, we reflect on the things we hold closest to our hearts. We are the guardians of the most important parts of our identities—the clothes we adorn our bodies with, the parts of our faces that resemble our ancestors, the work we dedicate our lives to. We are also guardians of the world, from preserving the health of the planet we inhabit to protecting the places we have grown up in.
Inside the issue, Pooja Nansi, Singaporean poet and director of the Singapore Writers Festival, was inspired to write a poem about the rapid rate at which our city is changing. “In the last few years, I have watched my own neighbourhood change drastically. Places that saw me grow up—The National Library, Golden Mile Complex, even the Popular at Marine Parade—have disappeared,” she says.
“I worry that if we cannot recognise our city, it will affect our ability to recognise ourselves. More importantly, looking at my two-year-old daughter, I grieve that I can never show her the Singapore of my childhood.”
Read Nansi’s full poem below.
Questions for a Disappearing Inheritance
The need / to leave / something / behind /
is as old /as the oldest of languages / pusaka /means inheritance /
in Sanskrit /
but what if /we have already /lost /our tongues /
cannot sing / the same songs / our grandmothers did /what can we call ours /
what more can we bear to lose /what if my daughter will never know /
that the tunnel /our taxi drives through /was once /a sunlit library/
the roads we build to cut /ten minutes /off the commute /come at the cost /
of a million / vanishing /stories /what can we ever dare to call /birthright /
if there is nothing left /for usto bequeath /why do we keep bulldozing /loved concrete/
I want to give her /a walk down a noisy thieves market /blasting songs in/
Hokkien /Tamil /Bengali /a promise that /the place she has her first kiss /
will still be standing /when she goes back a decade later /
how can we fill in the missing pieces /of the city we love/
I want to take her /to the clubs /that witnessed my twenties /stumbling out /high /
on cheap vodka /and the love of my friends /open fields next to an MRT /
malls we went to after school /a skate-through McDonald’s /
can anything in this city survive/more than thirty years /
that is not even /one lifetime/not even long enough /
to pass down to /one generation /what more can we bear to lose /
where will be able to take our children /that is not a manufactured nostalgia /
how long / can we grieve/ what we cannot give /and try /
to leave something behind anyway/
how do we remember the past when everything is always different here /
what can we sing of /what can we save /in the face /of constant demolition /
I want to offer a sweet prayer / for all that still remains /don’t we know/
that lost places make for lost people/
and what will our children /and their children be able to hold on to /
claim /as their own/I ask myself as the force of loss /comes charging at us /
until they too /must see it all disappear /until they too –
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