I did not know you, General,
haven’t been where you’ve been,
haven’t seen what you’ve seen,
I walked this land on other feet,
its textures, its fruit-laden winds,
the songs authored by clash and respite
and accompanied by the crackle of burning grass,
sad, haunting voids filled with conversation
gunshot and scream,
its immeasurable patience
the snapping of command
and the tenderness
of a mobile defense line dripping wistful dreams:
haven’t been where you’ve been,
haven’t seen what you’ve seen,
I walked this land on other feet,
its textures, its fruit-laden winds,
the songs authored by clash and respite
and accompanied by the crackle of burning grass,
sad, haunting voids filled with conversation
gunshot and scream,
its immeasurable patience
the snapping of command
and the tenderness
of a mobile defense line dripping wistful dreams:
these things I’ve recorded, but in a different language.
I did not know you, General,
not in the way our land made friends
made peace with you,
not in the clasping of hand
and the resolute embrace of breast against breast
as such you’ve probably known.
I have not known the weight
of certain bloods,
the length and breadth of your solitude
the expression of a soldier as death approached.
I did not know you, General,
not in the way our land made friends
made peace with you,
not in the clasping of hand
and the resolute embrace of breast against breast
as such you’ve probably known.
I have not known the weight
of certain bloods,
the length and breadth of your solitude
the expression of a soldier as death approached.
When you laughed, General,
was it to hide the heart’s intimate affair with brutality
or to say that life was softer than fear
and therefore a worthwhile proposition,
a justification to celebrate with smile
even as it was made of tear?
was it to hide the heart’s intimate affair with brutality
or to say that life was softer than fear
and therefore a worthwhile proposition,
a justification to celebrate with smile
even as it was made of tear?
I did not know you, General,
But I will recognize your breath
and blood
when elemental movement causes certain intersections
of moment with word
horror with love, friend with stranger, friend with enemy.
But I will recognize your breath
and blood
when elemental movement causes certain intersections
of moment with word
horror with love, friend with stranger, friend with enemy.
And when these juxtapositions beyond transcription
post me missives about a land that gets tilled
about lovers who can still kiss
politicians who can continue to play the games they play
mendicants who seem to receive
though the giver knows not of their receipt,
about chess squares and square cuts,
about papers that are published
and features that ought to as well,
let me assure you, General,
you shall not go unreceived.
post me missives about a land that gets tilled
about lovers who can still kiss
politicians who can continue to play the games they play
mendicants who seem to receive
though the giver knows not of their receipt,
about chess squares and square cuts,
about papers that are published
and features that ought to as well,
let me assure you, General,
you shall not go unreceived.
You see, I never knew you, General,
but in your refusal to leave,
I’ve found that this land is worth residence
and that residence is a child,
made of broken skin and sutured hope,
it is a song that will be played, General,
not because you’ve chosen another universe
but simply because you’ve walked this one
and because upon the dust you disturbed
and the dust you left untouched
there is a singular title, a gravestone legend:
Unvanquished.
but in your refusal to leave,
I’ve found that this land is worth residence
and that residence is a child,
made of broken skin and sutured hope,
it is a song that will be played, General,
not because you’ve chosen another universe
but simply because you’ve walked this one
and because upon the dust you disturbed
and the dust you left untouched
there is a singular title, a gravestone legend:
Unvanquished.
*Lieutenant General Parami Kulatunga, then Deputy Chief of Staff of the Sri Lanka Army and its third hightest ranking officer died in an LTTE bomb attack on June 26, 2006. This poem was published in The Nation as part of a tribute to the well-loved and gallant soldier.
[from my collection 'Threads', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2007]
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