Inevitable tokens

Sandcastles

being re-crafted into sand-mounds
and nothing:
sadness.
The silence that follows roar,
a wave taking a child's smile:
sadness.
A soft toy clothed in sand granule
and soaked in brine;
the immemorial residue
of impossible love:
tragedy and the most precious of tears.

[from the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]

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Araliya

I’ve wafted on these fragrances
to temple and childhood
visited doctrine and realization-fragment
offerings and murmured resolve
the pansil we break and resolve to uphold
again and again,
I’ve immersed in the textures
of the eternal verities
the nothing to bud to blossom and decay
the colours too
sprinkled, placed on altar
for the clasping of hands and timeless gathas,
the soft yellow slipping to poya white
the purification of mornings
acknowledgment of inevitable night
from a long ago I cannot forget
to a tomorrow that will not arrive,
and this today, this moment, this now:
‘Poojemi buddhang kusumena nena….’

[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]

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Drowning

What better place to drown sorrow
than in a mountain
of love letters and memories? 
what bigger illusion,
though,
to look in past-word
for one who has un-presented?

[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]

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Transparency

And the world
so masked and tightly so
has lost eye
in the ancient art of eye-holing
so lost
that face is missed for mask
and mistaken for face,
for eye is not of socket
but lens
exquisitely chiseled
so light will stop just outside skin
hit mask
and warp;
we see so much
that we see none
and name it 'transparency'.

[from the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]


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Caressing

A smile floats
along gaze-wave
washes over
ill-located word-rock;
heart-source things
reach heart
free of intervening trace,
and this too is caress
no less divine.
[From the collection 'Some texts are made of leaves,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2011]

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Where has the heart taken me/you?

A fishnet and a hook
a belly of acid
a burning rock and
the spark of a thunderclap,
to the blade of a fan
the end note of a music score
thumbprint of eternity
and nothing,
to after-last-sigh silence.

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