THE HELA HATAN OF RITIGALA

(for Ritigala Sumedha)

These hills are ancient,

older than the stories

and poetry

the dance and the dancer

the warrior and the war.

They live

because they are lived in

and their stories re-related

not only with word on paper

but in the grace of movement,

the tempered steel

the focused mind

the heart of equanimity.

These hills are ancient

because they are new

and are renewed 

and their spirits reawakened

with the particularity of gaze

the clasp of hands

the sprinkling of labour

the veneration of a tradition.

There are winds 

               that swirl as mist;

they are made 

               of the life-breath

of the immortals,

the defenders 

of a land and lifestyle,

the thousands 

of the Yaksha Nation;

they are made of strong belief

and tender engagement,

feet that know earth

hands that protect flame 

and eyes bereft of anger;

made of you and I

and a history un-visited

and is yet both of our now

and tomorrow;

made also,

among other things,

of a man called Sumedha,

history-born, 

tradition-resident,

of the soil, the waters

and a mountain

called Ritigala.

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