Hurrah! The victories won cast shadows in the dusk,
Falling through words dissent dies.
And we are alone.
Hurrah! The heroes come home as we die,
Cries of infants rail against hope while words of supine analytics
Adorn the news.
Statistically speaking, a majority supports this victory,
59.5% they say give or take a limb or two.
The girders of information support only decay.
The rot is necessary, sacrifice everything for our future
Including our future.
The riot was unnecessary, sacrificing support for another voice
That was our future.
The blots increase, black on white with red interspersed,
Carbon copies of bodies and dreams
Now write from graves.
The marble words from grassy mounds, a faint scent of memory’s perfume,
The mist of a vague life, for a moment heard amidst the fire
When all else is gone and wasted.
Shuffle to the palace, quickly now and in line
No scuffles, for there is order now in a new reign
Of pawns and queens
Who defeated us all.
Note: Desha-drohi means traitor in Sinhala. Read a related article here.