Upon the Sea`s Magnanimity

We walked along the Chilaw beach,
Treading on the waves,
Lapping the shore,
Before rushing back home.

Fascinated by the sea`s desolate glory,
With our trouser-legs rolled up to the knees,
We ventured a little farther,
Than the fellow strollers dared,
But would run backwards,
When a great wave caught us up,
In its relentless motion,
The shore couldn`t abate enough.

We picked foam from creamy crests,
As the tall waves genuflected,
And kissed the shore`s sandy feet,
And blew it
Like soap-suds.

‘The sea`s so generous
it doesn`t keep anything for itself …’
Said our friend,
A dweller by the sea.
‘If I was caught up in that great wave
and carried away,
would he return me ashore?’
‘It would, for sure’, added he,
‘but piecemeal!’

Neptune`s generous. But not enough.

The Remnant

The Remnant
Rain seeped in,
Through the torn fronds,
Thatching the roof.

Water flowing,
On the cracked cement floor,
Laved along the clay wall,
And soaked the torn sack,
Carpeting the door-step.

Outside, a rickety bicycle,
Leant against the wet wall.

Rain wetted the dry coconut husks,
Laid along the ledge of the wall.

As flood ambushed the hovel,
And stormed in,
The soggy walls caved in.

Under the avalanche of clay,
The rusty bicycle,
Was crushed to the ground,
Like a beetle under-foot.

The old peasant and his wife,
Came home to a heap of wet clay and wattle,
And watched with cold sorrow,
The sodden ruins,
Of their humble paradise.

The flood had destroyed,
Or washed away,
All their possessions.

All, I mean, except poverty.