I am the hot tropical sun, that shines on the long green grass… I am his rays, white-hot, shimmering, blinding bright…. I am the moist-laden wind that makes the mango tree whisper…and her many tales brought form teh azure Indian ocean…
I am the un-ending vista of a mountain plateu, 7000ft. above sea level, I am the smallest flower in the midst of that carpet of green, & the silent rock pool nestled in the hills… I am virgin rainforest, where single beams of sunlight make golden dapples in the permanent semi-darkness of the forest floor. I am the singing, whistling, growling, croaking & infinite sounding noisy silence of these forests, and the gurgle of the silver streams, the roar of the misty waterfalls & the ebb& flow of the rivers.
I am the never-ending sea… & the brown men & women that live on its white gold shores.. I am the sould of a poor woman watching her husband sail out in to the sunset…and her smile when he returns in the morning, with his catch of silver fish..
I am the 20 million sun-tanned faces, the multitude of languages… the farmer in the golden rice field, the lonely man in the tree hut, watching over his chena of vegetables in the dry zone, his torch burning bright & his vocie raised high in song… I am the child striving to learn through hardships, the student in the hallowed halls of a University, the young & carefree dancing the night away in a modern metropolis by the sea.
I am the 3 millennia of history, rock fortresses, giant temples & kovils brave Kings, settlers, invaders, colonialists….
And so I am… the Shot-hued sunset, that 20 million pairs of eyes stop to absorb, and revel in each end-of-day… for the utter magnificence of colour & majesty….
I am also the silent night under the million stars & the pale white moon…The tiniest creature of the night to the brown mouse owl that flies in search of prey. I am the grey mist over the paddy field & swamp as morning breaks again…
I am Sri Lanka, the pearl of the Indian Ocean…
But must I be the ocean’s tear-drop? Must I be a mother whose children die of hatred, whose blood seeps into my sand from the bullet wounds by his brother?
Must I be prostituted by ruthless men who care not for my well being or that of my children?…those who will care for only themselves & theirs…not us all! Why must they lead my children?
Why can ther not be peace? Old wounds wil heal with time…. don’t rub in the salt of hatred… Rub in the ointment of friendship, strive to understand…commit to peace… I am the mother of all… you are all my progeny… and I cannot be divided… only shared!
Be committed to peace!
– Nipuni S.
In memory of a fragile peace deal torn to shreds…let’s try now to find a new solution among the youth of today for a peace we can all respect & commit to….
Nipuni is a Core Group Member of Beyond Borders and an undergraduate student of Law.