Heritage is nostalgia’s twin
it is a straw to a drowning nation
some may say,
but no, nation’s never sink,
people do,
they roll in wistful wave
and crash on insecure rock
lose themselves in today’s sand
and cling and cling and cling
to ancestral grandeur
and in their dazzlement
miss in line and curve
crafting and elegance
and in the buddhalambana preethiya
the buddha vacana passes by
or stays and stays and stays
unseen
unseen
unseen.
[Inspired by the photography of Hiranya Malwatta]
i really like this your so eternally crafted poem flavored with heritages of this soil we all live and the eye that Miss Hiranya owns is so amazing i love her poetry too.
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