A
Day before
The poya day
You visited me
With your beloved
And left
Promising
You’d be back
For New Year
You promised
And
I believed
Ultimately,
You came
Making your
Promise
A reality
But not the same
Manner you went
Yet
In a sealed box
Making us
All mourners
To whom should
I call ‘Putha’*
For whom should
I be awaited
At the fence
War, I curse you
You took mine off
Making me
An eternal mourner
And loner
My tears frozen
And no longer can cry
Yet I’m awaiting
And awaiting you
My dear son
Till my existence
At the doorstep
(May this be a tribute to our brave soldiers who sacrificed their lives for oneness of Sri Lanka)
- The Sunday Observer
Scene given in the poem had been common a couple of years ago. Hundreds of thousands of the youth had to report to the frontline. Only a few could come back home. The others got either killed or injured. Moms were impatient till the arrival of their sons. They used to make prayers for God both day & night. Sometimes sealed coffins were brought home. Just think of the situation. Really, it was tragic.