The Muruku Murmurations

I wrote this piece during one of my LRT journeys. I try my best to clear my mind during these long rides and find some quiet, some times I write when I feel like a train of thought forms and lines keep running. This piece was performed at Oral Fixation in July. Let's take a peek into history... Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! I would yell with the tip top of my eagerness I was too small for the teachers to notice Small enough for the other kids to pick on They picked me apart. You see I wasn't a cookie cut cutie I wasn't anyone's first pick I didnt check all the boxes growing up. Growing up I didn't have boxes to tick No list of ambitions or expectations I braved my face Every time my words did not leave a trace Your absences of words cut deep, deep in my heart. I grew up being picky Picky about my friend Picky about my attire Picky about my desires Picky about which pieces to pick up It seemed easier to pick at the negatives Than

That feeling when you find yourself unable to find peace and everything around you messed with your senses and leave you in much discomfort. The very experience one has during a panic attack and the severe realisation that at that moment, you are your only saving grace. My teeth clench every time I stand here Coldness flowing through my veins My Joints ache in pains I am uncomfortable For multiple reasons, I stay I stay thinking that I am wanted I stay because I am obligated I stay for the sake of being present. I find myself Unable to blend in Cautiously Avoid being jarring So I don't prick people with my torns Always looking for a purpose tediously So I don't melt into the wall like wallflower. I smile and be of good cheer Pretend that I find you fascinating Entertain superficial whims that have no enriching value Listen as you don't think through your thought prior It tires me to be here. I don't belong anywhere Not with you

I was walking through Malacca with a good friend of mine. I recalled the stories we learned during our History lessons in school and wrote this short piece. Pahlawans composed In their glorious posture Confident in their stances Silat weaves their body Between power and stillness Moving the mind and soul As one with calm and strength. - Swit Marie 0420H 9th March 2018 Jonker Street