Glove; A Poem

Tireless hands work day and night

The worker’s body is cyanide

Destructive and explosive

From labours of pain when all’s asleep

 

Like a candle that whistles

He’s burning out while flailing in mud

Poles and bolts become more

Son and daughter than true blood

 

The laden ant is a lonely soul

Day’s bright but eyes look aside

Not a glance at the trodden soul

To them, he’s foreign mould

 

But he tries to be at peace

Life’s a gift; A curse to receive

Shackled to the endless work

Born anew is a structure; Death inches closer

 

Carrying the familial weight with all his might

Are the worries he keeps at night

Then the death of his only pal

And even angles know not where in heaven or hell

 

The next morn he visits the saint

Then jumps off the building’s frame

He becomes nothing

Except for the glove that remains.

 

I wanted to write a poem about low wage foreign construction workers, since it’s a prevalent phenomenon where I come from. Because Singaporeans aren’t willing to take these jobs, we get foreign workers to build our houses, bridges, buildings and structures…often at a very low wage. Granted, it’s still higher than what they could probably get back in their home country, but I still think they lead an extremely difficult life. It doesn’t help that most people are apathetic to their plight and would often feel irked out when in the vicinity of these workers. Discrimination and stereotyping towards the workers is rife and they hardly get recognized for anything they do; Not even a smile or a glance and people really do take them for granted. So hopefully this poem can raise more awareness, this is the least I could do.

 

 

 

 

 

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. I think it’s great that you’re raising awareness about this and I also really love the poem! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. jwforeva says:

      Thanks! That means alot. I just hope people feel more for the plight of these workers.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. erinb9 says:

    I love this. It’s powerful and dark… makes me think about people becoming tools, nut and bolts themselves, economic resources that lose value for humanity. Kind of the capitalism nightmare at the extreme.

    Not that I reject capitalism entirely, but you get my point.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. jwforeva says:

      Hey Erin!!! Yeah that’s pretty much what inspire me to write it. Thanks, I’m glad you loved it…it’s the least I could do. How are you doing? Sorry for the late reply, I’ll get to reading your posts tmr okay 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. John Charet says:

    Great post 🙂 This is a very powerful poem indeed. Anyway, keep up the great work as always 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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