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Aurora is sailing back.
By
Weerathunga W. Nimal
....................................


We wrote verses calling men and women into one rising tide.
We came to raise a homeland gentle enough for the innocent to breathe.
We believed the battle was won and drank the bright foam of victory.
We declared the long night of seventy seven years of sorrow closed.

We thought the stitched thrones of corruption would crumble into dust.
We dreamed that spilled blood and fallen tears would ripen into gold.
We bore thin wages and hollow pay without complaint.
We would not bend our knees to rice thieves creeping through hidden doors.

Those we starved in the furnace of protest still stand unshaken.
The police who burned our eyes with pepper still guard the gates.
The laws that caged us for walking free now grin from polished halls.
Those who once served the enemy circle high like triumphant hawks.

In Batthalanda and Suriyakanda the killers sit in patient silence.
The shadows that swallowed hundreds of young voices still breathe in the dark.
The tormentors who bruised the spine of a nation remain untouched.
Where are the scales of justice when their names are spoken?

Seize those who feasted on the flesh of the country and lock the doors behind them.
Search for the pearls and rubies torn from the veins of our soil.
Unseal the ledgers of their loyalists, their kin, their silent partners.
Drag buried gold and stolen lands back into the daylight.

Murderers, thieves, and hired fists kneel at the throne of power,
While our own heroes stand rigid as statues carved from grief.
Are you waiting for these vultures to rise again with sharpened wings,
Until they strike us down and bury the revolution while you sleep?