lament of hyperion
By kevin martens wong zhi qiang
originally published wednesday, 16 april 2025
on tigri sa chang
Koitadu | Content warning
Please first read about my writing in the Skribadorang or Writing section on the Igleza page here before reading the piece below so you have advance warning about the rather spicy things that I often like to write about, and why I choose to write about them, especially in terms of subverting unhealthy stereotypes about gay people, Kristang people, Creole people, Indigenous people, masculinity, neurodivergence, the body, healthy forms of attraction and sexuality, and using my writing to process the severe individual, collective and inter-generational trauma and abuse I have faced across my life.
Let the goodness
be scarred into the terror
of new nebulas
brought briefly
and flickeringly
to endless height
and doom and ash;
let you
orbit the sun’s
final heat-moments
and in doing so
no longer consider
a binary approximation
of wonder to be something rash
and petulant,
something less than
real and something made of slightly more than
the very firmament
on which your own tortures were once
endlessly stretched out.
Call yourself back to mind
in the dreaming time.
Call yourself back
and at last accept
yourself
as proud.