I would photograph scars

I would photograph scars.

If only I had my old Nikon,
and a lion’s marigold skin,
I would camouflage there
to photograph scarred silence,
the silence of war.

From Babi Yar to Mullivaikkal

"Here all things scream silently,
and, baring my head,
slowly I feel myself
turning grey.

And I my self
am one massive, soundless scream

Sundari

Twenty-six years have passed.
Our first meeting,
North of Colombo,
a house on the beach.
flowers and creepers;
Beyond the fence,
fearful and shy

The Window of the Present

Nightmares, long dead,
Peer through the shattered panes of the
Window of the present.

The dead of the south, killed on the streets,

To the Dandelion

Now we make you suffer and will bury you alive
in her bosom’s chasm mother earth keeps.
And we burn the earth, not letting you survive.
Will you own her bosom?

Yet Another Incident in July 1983

Burying the dead
being an art well developed in our times
(our psycho-analysts have helped us much
to keep balanced minds--whatever
that may mean--) there is no......

Auschwitz from Colombo

Colombo. March. The city white fire
That pours through vehement trees burst into flame,
And only a faint but nearing wind
Stirring the dust
From relics of foreign invaders, thrown

left

Journalists for Democracy in Sri Lanka

  • JDS is the Sri Lankan partner organization of international media rights group, Reporters Without Borders (RSF). The launching of this website was made possible by the EU’s European Instrument for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR), of which Reporters Without Borders is a beneficiary.