When Lasantha wrote the editorial that predicted
his imminent assassination he suggested the civil war
would turn steadily uglier, then move inwards,
as a lizard searching for its tail, insidious in the way
each institution begins to lose its independence,
the machinery of the ruling family greasing every
Tom, Dick and Banda—forgive my allusion to white
rulers of a more genteel if not innocent nursery school—
this forsaken Ceylonese child has turned monstrous now
in the eyes of Whitehall and Ottawa’s Parliament Hill,
betters going wild about pressures in Canberra to present
a bold brief on behalf of human rights and investigation
of war crimes as Commonwealth heads prepare to meet,
while on the island rival thugs, from within the all-powerful
ruling group, battle over drug routes and a parliamentary seat.