Photo courtesy of Twitter
“Gota go home” the Aragalaya demanded.
Now, fifty odd days after going abroad
instead, he has returned, to a garland
and a motorcade, to bodyguards
and decoy cars, to a house protected
by army and police, to live with
respect due to a former president
who pumped gas once in America,
who became a denyer of gas at home,
who terminated opposition
with black-clad enforcers
on black motorbikes, melded
now into the detail and
the details that will protect
him from the wrath of people,
of justice, unless the Aragalaya
does not turn the other cheek,
refuses to forgive even the most
intractable sinner, who forced
Muslims to burn their dead,
who ordered mowing down
of Tigers waving white flags,
while Isipraya, the newscaster,
lay defiled and cast down
on the battlefield, This too
is on the Aragalaya mind
as Gota puts on his sarong
in his new home in the center
of the city (location not
disclosed in this poem).
