I wake up to a splintered sun, heat searing into my skin
waves fracture against the hull and the salt stings, sings;
the siren that is the sea still has me in its hold.
Callused feet slip across polished wood,
hands finding the rough ropes that slide between smooth palms, cheeks flushed –
another friction; another fraction of my transgressions,
I don’t belong.
I turn towards the horizon but the vast beyond offers only constant churns
of glass and silk, sharp and smooth, cutting, caressing.
In another time I would have known these waters,
finding balance in the temperament of their movements, in my movements.
My heart searches for its voice in the howling of the wind.
I am here. I am elsewhere. I am other.
I am home.
Sara Lau is currently a final-year student of Sociology and Southeast Asian Studies at the National University of Singapore. Her academic interests lie in the intersections between art, ethnography and anthropology. She enjoys writing, film photography, and speaking into the void on Twitter.