Howl for a new generation (with apologies to Allen Ginsberg)
losing a beloved on an ordinary day
in Colombo, in Mannar Town,
where pools of blood swell
on the steps of a bus,
in the market place,
on dusty shell shocked streets,
and the sentinels of the war
stand guard, holding back our grief;
only the palm thatched rooftops
bear witness to departing warriors.
our silence remains steadfast
as the minds of my generation,
give way to the rot of rabid thought tracks,
and all we are left with,
is denial and counter-denial,
a tunnel of silence,
a never ending drumbeat.
somebody, take this,
take my anger,
add it to yours.
take it simmering,
a ball of blue flame,
watch how it ignites when
we don’t handle it carefully
howl, howl to
Jesus, if you want
or to Allah, I don’t care
prostrate at Buddha’s altar
or in Kaliamma’s temple,
even though we may be afraid,
because we are afraid,
because we know that
it may end, alone,
among strangers and
thinking of our mothers
on a crowded bus at Pittakotte or
on the way to school in Muttur,
because we know that life
is worth more than this,
and silence will not save us,
howl.







Samanthi,
Thanks for this poem.
Sena
In Ginsberg’s original Howl, he “saw the best minds of his generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix”.
In Sri Lanka, the Government’s clensing of rebellion of the early 70s and late 80s, and the desire by the LTTE to remove Tamil opposition, also “saw the best minds” destroyed. If they were still here, Sri Lanka would be a different place.
Today, the best minds of my generation have already left the island or are planning to, or they are hiding, or they are attending meetings or writing reports, or they have given up and are selling lingerie and swimsuits for global consumption… searching for a different kind of “angry fix”.
Hello Sam, you are absolutely right about the best minds of our generation.
I wasn’t necessarily writing about the best minds, just “the minds of my generation” and our collective silence and pain.