Surreal and amazing is this sunset
the moonrise and the dawn
dressed as they are
in the colors of your radiance
the radicalism you had
for so long hidden from me
And as you sing love songs
of tomorrows and tomorrows
the fragrance of roses
having wafted over barricades
and perfumed Parliament
your voice is a garden of love
whose petals were until now unknown
Your Sri Lankan flag flutters
in defiance and hope
and makes me tremble
putting to shame your fingers
gaze and words
as they caressed my heart
all these years of knowing and loving
And I remember those other times,
not too long ago,
when you spoke of symbol and trope
and with fine ideological blade deconstructed,
skinned a lion, blunted a sword
mixed colors so ratios were blurred
and in the name of 'Sri Lanka'
you assigned to each religion a single vote
and a single vote too to each ethnic group
And I remember those other times,
again not too long ago
when selling off national assets
as per Bretton Woods diktat
went unnoticed
'countries are markets,
boundaries meaningless'
so the economists said
and you, my love,
in the wisdom acquired
from geographies and coffee shops
where ladies and gentlemen
so refined with classical western culture
civlized by the Greek and the Romans
quoted Keats, Shakespeare and Wordsworth
and sometimes even Marx, Althusser, Lacan and Gramsci
you, my darling,
were not perturbed,
but that was then,
way back then.
Countries are markets and toys
histories irrelevant, heritage too
except of course the homeland discourse
when the doctrine of unboundedness was shelved
to accomodate the carving of a map
to placate a thug
The flag is now wrapped around your waist
what a garment, what a lovely sight
never have you looked this beautiful, my love
'system-change, system-change,' the slogan screams,
and I applaud, eyes shining, voice breaking,
remembering all those years and even yesterday
of badmouthing individual or party,
blaming politician and policy
but holding in reverence, never touching
'the system'
The system was and is invisible
but not unidentifiable, as you now know
and when we send it home, so to speak,
out will go capitalism
out too the IMF option,
out will go exploitation
out will go the neoliberalist lie
out will go privilege
out too the lifestyles
that system rewarded you with
yes, with tax-breaks and easy-paths
to certificate, profession and career
and Colombo will be swept over by the rabble
the baiyas and godayas and others outdated
the uncivilized riff-raff providing sneer-content
for Puswedilla and his ancestors
My dearest, the road to Tomorrow
is not a superhighway, this you know,
there will be tear-gas, water-cannons and baton-charges
there will be arrests and detention,
perhaps torture and death
I hope not, sweetheart
if the long march against all tyrannies
and not those comfortably selected
takes you to unhappy places,
the barricades or a police cell
if you are shackled in some K-point
the torture-death chambers
that mimic the political architecture of the late eighties
you might find people unlike any you've seen before
people whose body-odour and crude-words
are signatures of class
identifiers that locate them
and of course you,
whispering 'this is what the system is all about comrade'
They might ask about police brutality
'Lasantha, Lasantha Wickramatunga'
I am sure you won't forget that name,
but you would also enumerate thus:
'Manjula Asanka and Raseen Chintaka of Boossa,
Appuhamuge Edward of Hunumulla,
Magoda Pathirage Hema Vipul
Sathasivam Madism of Karadiyanaru,
Manjula Prabath Wijewardena, Mawanella,
Chadik Syman Wickramarachchi, Peliyagoda
Sunanda Dias, Gampaha
Nadaraja Karan and Pavun Raj Sulakshan,
Sumith Prasanna Munasinghe, Embilipitiya.'
'From 88-89?' they might ask,
but you can tell them,
'no, they belong to Yahapalanaya times'
And then they'll ask,
'How about 88-89 sahodariya,
do you know who died?'
'Why,' you would reply, 'Richard, Richard De Soyza!'
But before they can interject, you would add
'And not just him
for there was Ranjithan Gunaratnam,
indeed just one Richard there were 60,000 Ranjithans.'
For now you see,
and now you know
and thus we grow,
you and I
and all of us,
through innocence and ignorance
arrogance and conviction,
from darkness to light
slumber to wakefulness
selectivity to the overall
beyond comforts and comfort zones
in the necessary radicalization
that leaves far behind
precipitating factors
and misbegotten rewards,
the yield of class and class privilege
Surreal and amazing is this sunset
the moonrise and the dawn,
dressed as they are
in the colors of your radiance
the radicalism you had
for so long hidden from me
or which I never had eyes to see,
but now you see
and I do too
and that all the difference makes.
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