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බූන්දියට එන පාර

වයර් දිගේ- | ගොළුඛෙලි තැපෑලෙන්- බූන්දියේ අපි, 190/3/A, කැන්දලියැද්දපාළුව, රාගම.


May 2009: Nanthikadal Lagoon: an old child of Indian ocean.

Yesterday, we made our safe zone by
hanging saris around us. Being blind to the
outside is a moment of secure feeling.
Today, we have to walk straight and stand
still when needed. Is it true that crows fly

The bridge is lower than before. Under are
people, floating like dead. The war has
made crows into vultures. A brown calf
circles around the mother. Shelling is not a

This water is murky. Smell of the air is
unbearable even for an ape like me. Living’s
breath and dead’s subsiding warmth have
made water unreal. Can the word surplus
be an adjective for people? If we are
dumped to the water, we will walk on it. We
are weightless.

Death is nothing, but the wounds… We
need somebody who is not wounded.
Making a white flag is not that difficult
one out of our own flesh under the skin,
flesh must be paled into white now.

සුභද්‍රා ජයසුන්දර

මේ බූන්දිය ඔබේ මූණු පොතට එක් කරන්න | Share this Boondi on Facebook
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