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Saturday, 7 January 2012

Openness

Open wounds are made for blood-letting
open words for love-letting.

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

Thursday, 5 January 2012

For the universal you

There are worlds out there
in colour and shade
contoured and free
made of elements
named but unseen;
there's a universe
that pours from your eyes 
that draws mind wave
from the depths of the deepest oceans
to break at your feet,
with penitence and request
for residency 
in that singular vantage point
of heart-mind intersect;
to see the ways of re-mapping
and to inhabit the most ancient lands
with paint so fresh
it is 'news'.


[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Heart truths

Sandpaper love
is a heart-bleeding caress
just like chiselling love.
They give out heart-shred: 
little pieces of forever 
and memory
the collateral of crafting.
One degree too tender
one degree too harsh
and heart-death results.
Yes, delicate it is
this matter of loving.


[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']


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Tuesday, 3 January 2012

For Jayasena Jayakody (1936-2010)

 

All the fathers 
the father-claimants 
and other 
contributors 
had to be spawned themselves,
re-birthed,
baptized 
cleansed;
there was another father,
one of many, yes,
but one who never raised hand 
never claimed paternity,
but nurtured nevertheless
the sons and daughters 
who would make the stand
and win back the earth.

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']


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Monday, 2 January 2012

Faith Sutra at Kelaniya


Flower-rinse
is as ritual as offering,
the one to un-residence dust
and the other to expiate sorrow;
and yet eye is not eye enough
to assess success rate
and dust remains
in particled particularity,
like the
kleshasthat await that other rinsing
with the maturing of
paramitas,but this side of going beyond
incense and flower
fragrance and ember
dew drop and dust
another rinse is possible,
for faith gives way slowly to comprehension
the victory of light over darkness
begins with the first modest spark
and that perhaps
is the long and short of sansara.
[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves' and published in 'The Nation' of January 1, 2012]

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Sunday, 1 January 2012

Heart-scrambling

The pieces are now scattered
in unnamed plains 
where wild autumns 
gather to feast
on fragmented solitudes
the pitiful residue
of love and longing
and dove-hearts
roasted on heart-break stones.

[From the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days]