Today we clapped. 

On the dot at eight, in the night.

We clapped for frontline healthcare workers.

For the infected.

For those in quarantine.

For anyone, everyone who’s been working their asses off for others.

Today we clapped. 

For ourselves as for others.

Because everyone’s feeling it,

that cabin fever. 

That feverish feeling in the head, not from the virus,

but from being cooped up at home for too long.

Clapping is relieving.

Apply claps where it hurts.

Today we clapped.

The whole neighbourhood, in rare chorus: 

“Come on, Singapore!”

“We’re all in this together!”

“SG United!”

“Majulah!”

“Merdeka!”

“Huat ah!”

It doesn’t have to make sense, what one cheered.

As long as one is doing it in solidarity. 

This virus doesn’t make sense to start with.

So the senseless shall meet

with senseless optimism.

Today we clapped.

And clapped.

and clapped.

Till our hands were sore, 

our throats were dry,

our eyes misted over.

But our spirits high, 

and hope even more.

For a day to come better, 

when we wake tomorrow.

Today as they clapped,

I watched from afar.

We’re all afar, safe from one another,

but so close in heart and soul.

Even if just for a moment.

Even if we forget we ever did anything this silly.

It was still a great moment.

Today, today, today.

We clapped.

And as I soaked it all in from my window,

goosebumps ran wild. 

A feverish warmth rose in my head.

Heart choking in my throat.

A soft whisper, a gentle knowing, bubbled up in my head.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

This is my Singapore.