Commencement

Like young school-going children we
Wore matching blue gowns and colored sashes that
Did not quite reach our feet. Overhead,
Colorful balloons hung displayed as in a toy shop window
Blue, pink, green, yellow, purple –
Out of reach. We sat in rows arranged:
Chan, Lim, Soonderaj, Tay, Zhang; Economics,
History, Literature, Politics, Sociology;
First class, Second Uppers, Lowers, Third,
Pass; waiting for our names to be called.
The dean in garish red with his mushroom hat
Drones on and on about progress. We flip through
The program looking for friends and competitors
Secretly relieved to find out that they had graduated with
Less than what we had, disappointed
That they had graduated. Mr Presiding Officer, may I present the graduates…
The roll call begins and we tense, ears
Perked and listening. Rows of graduands aligned
As pick-up sticks in a pack, restless as puppies
At feeding time, adjusting their light cerise hoods
Pink as the soft blush on dolls’ cheeks, adjusting their
Uncomfortable hoods, black as Batman’s cape,
Readying themselves.
Bachelor of Arts, Economics, Chan Deng,
The first person receives her degree and we graduate
Into tomorrow’s hope for today.

- After Sharon Olds’ “Rites of Passage”
- 20 May 2011