Untitled

 A Structuralist Review on Cyril Wong's Untitled

written by Kiem C. Dela Peña

If there is one notion that unites every form of love from every point of origin, it would be the yearning for it to be seen and accepted. Untitled by Cyril Wong is a Singaporean confessional piece from his book, Oneiros in 2010. Within the context of a conservative Singapore, it narrates the love between two men and their search for a world that accepts them.

The heart knows what it wants. Its fervent rhythm does not stop for approval. Just as Shakespearean’s forbidden romance, it perseveres and searches for a sanctuary where it can be free and unhindered. Cyril Wong's Untitled, ventures on personal aches of love and alienation. In a world where passion and romance are celebrated, there is a corner of isolation in a kind of romance that is seen with estrangement. As a thematic literary piece, it weaves a narrative with symbolic representation in its threads. It exhibits signs that foreground the experience imbued within the lines.

Untitled expands on love that is met with opposition. Outside the warmth that envelops the two hearts is a cold aversion from their family and society.

Behind you,

I see my parents on the sidewalk

fainting comically to the ground

at the sight of us, a wrist to the brow.

Cyril Wong's poetry hints at aspects of struggles with conservative religiosity (Wong, 2015).

More people seem to

drop as we drive by: Father Arro

who told me God existed by virtue

of trees and the sun's rise and fall,

every teacher who favoured us

for busting our asses to please them,

the rest of your family who have

yet to learn about us.

The people collapsing at the sight of their love conveys disapproval and opposition. And the secrecy of their relationship hints at their reluctance and fear to make it known. Estrangement, opposition, and disapproval are the visions that are recurring within the narrative.

They collapse

in spite of themselves. Buildings

are starting to sway too as we pass.

Soon the Parliament House is

caving unto itself. I watch

the Merlion wobble and topple

into the river with an unimpressive

splash. Churches, flats, and malls

shudder to rubble in our wake.

Within the lines, pervading are also the hearts resisting their fate. The optimism and hopeful enchantment for a future anew, stripped from its prejudiced eyes.

Somehow we are still kissing,

you with your eyes closed, mine

wide open, as our ride takes us

to a shore and straight into the sea.

We stop when we reach a world

where no person or building may

fall at the spectacle of our embrace.

I think we are almost there.

Passion is the kind that brings out the best in us. It leads us into a world unknown and unearths parts of ourselves that astonish us. Our passions are what makes us human and to love without ends is the most human thing we can do. Untitled by Cyril Wong reverberates the desire to love ardently and freely, to embrace with no fear, and to love in a world that does not crumble at our hearts. 

Works Cited

Wong, C. (2015, November 4). Cyril Wong (b. 1977). Poetry.sg. http://www.poetry.sg/cyril-wong-intro