These hills are ancient,
older than the storiesand 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.
[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]
LEAVE A COMMENT
i remember this poem. and i remember the photographs too.
ReplyDeletewe need to protect 'thun sinhalaya' 'hela hatan' and all our 'hela sihala', hela gowiya', hela nirmaana''hela jana gee','siyalu hela kalaawan''all siya rata' things especially respecting the siyalu hela urumayan of other countries.
wonderful poem.
Really really beautiful. Love the ending.
ReplyDelete"made also,
among other things,
of a man called Sumedha,
history-born,
tradition-resident,
of the soil, the waters
and a mountain
called Ritigala."