Drop Sutra

A grain

of unknown birth

rocks in cradles vast

rises to sky

falls on earth

goes underground

like fugitive and rebel

slips through lens

interrupts  and bests

thesauric capture,

gives and slips

drops and warns,

heats up and cools,

subverts residencies

outlives residents.

Inspired by the photography of Nuwan Senaratne

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The ‘more-to-it’ of dance and dancer

So you want sword turned

into ploughshare and industry

hatred into love

and new destiny

soft word for harsh

an upturning of the earth

in war’s aftermath?

Then look!

This is dance

the movement of arms

outlawed and undergrounded

and in that elegant transliteration

read if you will

affirmation of life over death

voice over silence

the resilience of a people

underestimated at cost.  


Inspired by the photography of Ravindra Dharmatilleka

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Dimensions of Sight

Sight was for reading

the faraway and near

the large and small

limited incarcerations

and beyond-boundary imprisonment;

sight is for length

breadth and breathlessness

depth of dive

and discernment

the cross-pollination

of real and perceived

the dreamscapes

that fracture and re-make

the pinhead

of pindrop silences

sea-drop and sky-drop;

sight is for shut-eye seeing

for gather and scramble

in the unincarcerable

freedom to read. 

[Inspired by the photography of Ravindra Dharmatilleka]

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May Redness

Come May

and there’s greeting

in cloth and color

beret berating

the redness of defiance

defined and ill-defined;

come May

there’s flag and slogan

regurgitation and coinage

replaying of old themes

and words that seem new;

come May

and there’s redness

rising above man and market

flying over rally and march

as predictable

but ever so fresh

newer than other seasons

of protest and ritual

thankfully.

[Inspired by the photography of Ravindra Dharmatilleka]

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Epistles

Epistles I’ve seen

inked visitations

of observation and report

they’ve come in glance and innuendo

changes of expression

short-changed response

to things real and perceived.

Epistles I’ve read

notes of passing and no-return

senders moving on

not too long after

the finality of eternal claim.

Epistles now arrive

from far away and now

hand-delivered love

crafted in write and read

and these notes of endearment

come now as box

as bookmark and candy

inviting a philately

that is not nation-bound,

for these epistles

cashew-shaped and coconut-frosted

are fluent in the grammar of enigma

of flirt and toy

and celebrate

in confusion and clarity

the timeless insanities

the undisguised blessings

of anonymity.

Ode to a child

A twist of the hands of a toy-clock,

the arrival of a butterfly and a kite,
an unthinking word that tore your world apart:
is this how your hours were marked?
Did you collect any colours today,
any keepsake from a pavement
a dream that flew from a billboard?
When you mixed perfume and dust
did your mind erupt in an impossible fountain
in uncontrolled mirth
or as the most beautiful smile?
Did you birth the dawn with fire
did you feel life ebb away
in the startled ways
of the traditional homelands of warfare?
Did you pause to savour
moment and moment
or was it easier
or perhaps made more sense
to let the receding wave recede
and embrace the approaching one
with open arms made of unimaginable optimism
with open arms carved from a wood
called ‘lack of choice’?
In any event,
that smile,
is it the smile of a heart
that knows generosity and nothing else
even when encountering the tormentor,
the thief that sought to rob innocence
tried to re-paint magic in adult colours?
I don’t know your ways, your world,
and this is why I ask:
“Was your day a child’s day
or the residue left by an adult brew?”
I don’t know your ways, your world,
so I shall stop
and throw a smile
and make this request:
“take it and twist it with yours
unleash that fairy power;
cure me of the curse of adulthood”.

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Dipena tama-dhamsina

Vesak

in these glittering times
of spectacle and flush
volume and insistence
is competition inscribed,
and yet in the compelling
in finish and provoking
of oohs and aahs
let it be said also
there’s crafting and frill
the meticulous and veneration;
there are fingers here
eye and heart
delight in process and product
and faith every inch of the way
colored by ethics of giving
rejoicing in obtained joys
there’s dana, sila and bhavana
cognizance of eternal verities
and affirmation of the collective
murmured in the timeless chant,
sabbe satta bhavantu sukhitatta.

[Inspired by the photography of Rukshan Abeywansha and Ravindra Dharmatilleka]

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