"Singapore"
Mary Oliver

In Singapore, in the airport, 
a darkness was ripped from my eyes.
In the women’s restroom, one compartment stood open.
A woman knelt there, washing something
in the white bowl.

Disgust argued in my stomach
and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.

A poem should always have birds in it.
Kingfishers, say, with their bold eyes and gaudy wings.
Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees.
A waterfall, or if that’s not possible, a fountain
rising and falling.
A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.

When the woman turned I could not answer her face.
Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and
neither could win.
She smiled and I smiled. What kind of nonsense is this?
Everybody needs a job. 

Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor,
which is dull enough.
She is washing the tops of airport ashtrays, as big as
hubcaps, with a blue rag.
Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing.
She does not work slowly, nor quickly, but like a river.
Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird.

I don’t doubt for a moment that she loves her life.
And I want her to rise up from the crust and slop
and fly down to the river.
This probably won’t happen.
But maybe it will. 
If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it?

Of course, it isn’t.
Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only
the light that can shine out of a life. I mean
the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth,
the way her smile was only for my sake; I mean
the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds.

before I point out how absurd it is to think that the prestigious Changi Airport would ever allow someone to squat in front of their toilets and wash ashtrays, I will point out the good parts of this poem. this: Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem; this: But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor; this: Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only the light that can shine out of a life. It's quite pleasant, the way she describes a small hope that anyone ca n have. Not necessarily that amazing miracle that people desire but the miniscule triumphs, I think that's important 

I think overall this poet came to Singapore in the 1960s or she went to China and just put 'Singapore' because she thought it was part of China. And if you're familiar with the cleaning aunties at Changi Airport, you'll know that all they do is sit on those ledges at the sides of the toilets and stare at you when you go in, stare at you when you come out. For some reason I get frustrated when people have stupid ideas of what Singapore is like. Third world, non-English speaking, totalitarian because we cannot chew gum. Please we're totalitarian for plenty of other more valid reasons. Oh well, I guess that's patriotism at the minimum level, haha 

Gus and I went for supper at the prata shop near my house. Been so long since I've had prata and it tasted sooo good... they're improving, haha. But anyway, we had a good talk. I told him that sometimes I see some people as 'surface people' and after trying to explain it, it essentially is people who live their lives quite meaninglessly. It's exactly what it means: people who don't dig deep. We discussed how some people go through daily motions and do things that seem 'apt' or 'right' but they don't think deeper than that. Some people go all out to keep having fun, keep doing things that bring them pleasure but they don't ever try to figure out why they have to keep trying. I said I'd like to sit down with someone and have a real talk; void of gossip or very trivial things. The kind of talk I was having with him. I think people who have given life a real thought will come to have some core beliefs that are essential to who they become. It doesn't have to be believing in a God. It
can be as simple as believing that a person is on Earth to do good, and that itself will set someone on a certain path. We talked a lot about God and who He is. And by that I mean, where did He come from? I find it so unfathomable that we're all in the control of this one being that no one, NO ONE who is alive will EVER know about; His origins, His nature, His cognition. It's mind-boggling how tiny we are in the scheme of the history of the universe, and who knows? There could have been universes before us that have lived and died. Gus said, maybe Jesus came elsewhere in another universe, and we are Earth 2.0. The scary thing is you hypothesize about all these things but any single one of them could be true. 

I told him I think that people think so much about things like these, about how tiny we are, how insignificant that they start to feel like they need a purpose and they need some meaning, and that's where religion comes in. Of course there is that whole agriculture thing, but I think people started to crave some form of fulfillment. I think early on they walked around very lost and very empty, very confused about who they were and what was out there. The fulfillment is now filled by half and half: science & religion. And on that note of becoming fulfilled, mankind has started to underestimate the value of
needing to search for that fulfillment because it's now so plentiful, becoming cheap to some (happens when supply > demand) and so its value dips, thus, 'surface people.' I think if you don't try to search for some fulfillment, one day you will realize how empty you are and how the years have wasted by in your frivolity. I don't know. But anyway I was just happy I could talk to him about it. I can only talk to a few people about things like these, but Gus is one of the few who get me completely and gives great insight 

I said if there was no heaven or hell, I'd choose dying into nothingness (the idea of everything simply becoming black, but you can't even think about how everything's black because you are nothing), but Gus said he'd want reincarnation. Maybe he loves life more than I do, haha. He also said he didn't mind dying now because he'd go to heaven and have a great time. But I would miss everyone dearly and all the children I wouldn't have, that makes me sad just thinking about it. I guess once you're in heaven you don't think about these things, which makes me scared, a little bit. How can you suddenly forget
everyone you love? I know we love Jesus more than anything but just because I love Jesus it doesn't mean I love my family any less. I asked Gus if he thinks Jesus feels sad when people go to hell. Gus said he thinks so and I think so
too 


but Gus better not die anytime soon cos I wouldn't even be able to kill him out of anger