Bury them right now
The modern political discourse on conflict resolution becomes a banality when it invariably tends to get stuck with a buzz word or phrase. Then, the intellectual circus begins. The experts coin them…
Poetry
Welcome Back, Uncle
After Civil War and Tsunami, floods again, the worst in 25 years, which recalls more or less the war’s length, and the Tsunami won’t return for another hundred. Where will we molder…
Winning For Whom?
“Catch it!” Two words that snap me into action, The crowd cheering, my team turns and looks at me. The adrenaline surges and I am out of my daydream. Catch it, and…
And the moon sheds a drop of blood
Photo by Louis Cahill In January last year, I visited Mullaitivu. Since it was after dusk, I decided to find lodging just for one night. During the day, I had the opportunity…
We, Displaced.
She marched through the streets in ’09, For a country thousands of miles away, For the people she had never met. She marched, and she stood side by side Thousands. Thousands, who,…
The Other Side
A glimpse of the streets we would have called home, I’m laughing in the park, climbing the coconut trees, Cycling through the dusty lanes, playing at the local spots. It’s a strange…
On GLF and Evolving Culture
Featured image courtesy Amalini de Sayrah Last week saw the usually sleepy town of Galle come to life with the Galle Literary Festival. In a celebration of all things literary, Colombars descended…
In Absentia
My blast through screens of Walmart.Com has left no visible trace, name drained from the database, the retailer cutting losses, unwilling to keep stock, especially in the department of war poetry. about…
Miracle on the Green
I have forgotten last week, and last year took place inside a long glass twinkling with snow dust. Where are we now, The year racing perenially and not one stab in the…
The moon is out
In Sri Lanka The moon is out I think No, not a full moon Just a patch of light Straining through the darkness And not everywhere equally bright In the north I…
The New Hope
I have learned humility, to respect my brother, to walk on the straight line when the man in blue requires compliance, but I am not drunk, and I am not free, yet…
Cycles of joy and pain: Ode to the Jaffna cyclist
Build and break Break and build Is this not A child’s world? Stamp your journey with mildness Stamp your journey with gentleness Tread with care Disturb nothing Inherit the earth By being…
Did you too laugh, my brother?
Photo courtesy Tell me my brother in the North, Who is not allowed to weep today Tell me about the times when you laughed On your long road to defeat and subjugation…
waiting for the war to end
In this place there are No trees no old house With the rope swing Between the karatha kolombang Trees Here there is only White heat white-brown sand Four tin walls And a…
Five Years Later
Photo by Ron Haviv The pearly island, flip in the sea before munching hot prawns near breakers on the beach; be careful with a camera, no point and shoot in sensitive…