Colombo, Jaffna, Peace and Conflict, Poetry

Lance Corporal

I’m tired.
It’s midnight.
I’m propped up
Against the mud
Like a cannon gun,
To fight
The battles you
From behind
Your trenches
Of ink.

My blood.
Your right.
That’s not so hard
To rationalise,
When I’m out here
And you’re safe in there.
Your sovereignty
Well intact.

Our skies are not the same.
Mine and yours.
Mine is black.
You’ve taken my stars
To stud
Your darkness
With my light.

I was like you
When I signed my name.
Just a father,
A son,
A lover. A friend.
But today
I am a coin in your
Treasury of blood.
Cold, worthless blood
You so casually