Salutations

Of course there’s fervor
pride in duty
sense of nation
history and moment,
of course there’s order
the rank-file thing
and the saying of ‘do this’
and the doing-that,
of course there’s appreciation
gratitude for freedoms won
boundaries defended,
of course they are ours
and we are theirs
and of course
under flag and
in the unison of song
the requirement of parade
in the custom of celebration
there is defense of indefensible
the weight of carrying out
orders that don’t unfurl
from flag or chorus
and of course
somewhere between lines
there’s the out of line
of independence-residue
leftovers
left un-celebrated,
of course.




Inspired by the poetry of Chandana Wijesinghe   

There will be a rose

Striding down an empty street,

so much like a King;

nothing ahead, nothing behind,

and on either side

the multitude screaming;

Mansur danced the dance of the sublime,

singing the praises of the lord:

“Ana al Haq, Ana al Haq, Ana al Haq....”

So fervent the conviction,

so true the word,

it had to rain and how!

Stone after stone after stone,

making a monument

a blasphemous sepulchre

for Mansur Al Hallaj, Son of God.

Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani?

And yes, there was Veronica

with a rose-petalled kerchief.

and then the tears.

And Mansur

risen from the dead

once again unafraid

walks the streets of love

lined with screams and hand-grenades.

There is a humble song

of love and roses,

of waiting and knowing

and a scattering of body

in the disavowal of divinity.

Listen!

It is the Spirit of Mansur. 

A handful of popcorn

Into the Kandy Lake
emptied I
of three bottles of gin
two and a half
the rest
for me

You, lake
must get drunk
this day

For then
can we talk

Of that moment
when for the first time
a handful of popcorn
onto your waves
she tossed.

[Translation of Ruwan Bandujeewa's poem පොරි අහුරක් (pori ahurak) in 'මීළඟ මීවිත' (The Next Wine)]

The worlds up above

Not all mountains from landmass rise

not all canopied trees have root
not all crowds scream in anger
not all embraces are made for parting
not all splashes produce foam
not all unions yield harvests to cheer
not all clouds have silver lining
not all earth is earth-made for the earthy
not all skies ready for rain and rain dance.




[Inspired by the photography of Chandana Wijesinghe]

Two Houses

The once splendid and admired
with laughter creeping up the walls
love ornamenting table and shelf
hope as fresh as paint
fade, mould and crumble
but she in her perishability
gathers and grows
in accumulation or discard
in the other, more enduring.




[Inspired by the line drawings of Gamini Abeykoon]

Anthem for used books

In the re-freshing of reading
in passing from hand to hand
in the devouring by gaze
in the scramble of re-telling
writer is broken and re-made
poet reconfigred
into the oblivion of dust
immortalized in word and syntax
lines that will never read the same
and these special-needs homes
the dead are resurrected
by soft-finger flip
and time that stays
in the textual currency
beyond price.

Motherhood

The license
for anytime proximity
hands for caress and take-care
gaze to watch for trip
feet to move and pick
warmth for comforting
all heart-made
in the give-all generosity
and take-all of suffering
that is maternity.

[Inspired by the line drawings
of Gamini Abeykoon]