Dancing along the shore

Let's walk across that bridge,
And sit on it swinging our legs,
And feed the fish,
Let us catch the tadpoles like we used to do.

Let us dance along the bridge,
And be silent for a while,
Enjoying the comfort of our silence,
Holding each others hands.

Let us collect the sea shells,
And the shiny marbles along the beach,
Like we used to do,
Let us fly kites and make sand castles,
While enjoying the sea breeze so cool.

Come let us run along the shore,
Trying to catch each other,
Just like we used to do,
The wild rabbits have come to the garden,
Let us play with them and cuddle them,
Once again just like we used to do,
The birds will be singing the songs,
Of merriment on branches,
Blooming for spring.

Come my sisters,
Let us be children once again,
And dance on our tiptoes,
Because there is no one in the world quite like you.

Nisansala Dharmasena

Facilitator

Worker-professional,
Non-encompassed at either end,
I am a facilitator assigned to bring matters,
To practically negotiable conclusions.
Debilitating within the spectrum,
My head pains from the constant,
Fluctuation from one end to the other.
Why cannot facilitation equate fixation?
The yearning in me, nagging,
Killing me softly in many ways.
The many avenues of exploration-is it an asset?
To many, yes.
To me?
I do not know.
Feel like am going in circles, my head aches more.

Krishanthi Anandawansa

Hunger

It is felt by everyone,
Yet only a few can fulfill it.
No matter how hard they try,
There's no way to stop it.
Some fulfill it with luxury,
Some rarely get a handful.
It is gradually becoming a privilege,
To be able to eat a stomach full.
There are so many resources in the world,
So much food to eat,
Yet there are people who,
Haven't had a bread made of wheat.
Thousands die of hunger,
Thousands more wish they were also dead.
It has become a curse on the poor,
Their hunger will never get fed.
Some people wake up with hunger,
And they go to sleep with starvation.
It is a pity to know that only a few,
Are in a helping position.
Just wonder how nice it would be,
If underprivileged didn't feel hunger,
At least they will be happier,
As they don't need to keep false hopes.

Shazin Sadakath

Dark days

When I began reading,
The chapter 'Dark days',
In "Little Women".
I felt a deep distressful dolour,
Embosoming my over-sensitive childish heart,
Over a heart-rending tragedy to betide,
In my nimble imagination,
With the dismal doleful title,
Poignantly suggesting little Beth's death....
The allusions to scarlet fever,
Severely shook my naAs each word seemed to confirm,
My unpleasant surmise,
'Oh! God! Don't let the little dove die!',
Deep in my heart,
I made silent but earnest prayers....

As death began haunting,
The sick child's bed,
I nearly cried,
Touched profoundly,
By a little girls complaint,
Real but among the pages of a book;
More than Jo herself,
I was troubled, distressed....

But when the chapter ended,
With little Beth beginning to recuperate,
I felt a great sense of relief,
Replace my deep distressful sorrow,
And asked myself,
'Could Jo`s happiness have been
Greater than mine?'

Jayashantha Jayawardhana