Poetry: For Mel

On Sunday, the morning 2nd February 2104 while many people in Colombo were lounging enjoying a Sunday morning or hurrying to the next Colomboscope event - finance journalist Mel Gunasekara was found killed at her home. I have good friends who knew her well, and although I didn't share that privilege having known of this bright, wonderful woman I felt shaken.  This poem is a catharsis in a way, and my attempt to make sense of this act of violence towards someone who by all accounts was a wonderful human being. When we will change from being a nation of the dead and mourned to one of the alive and celebrated?

Its a plea I extend to so many of our generation - come back, stay, be here. Sri Lanka needs you, your home needs you, for if not it is the next generation that pays for our sins in this twisted act of fate.

RIP Mel 
For Mel
It’s strange to feel kinship with someone you have never metIt’s stranger when that kinship is formed by tragedyYour death
I have perused the pictures shared by mutual friendsRead your wordsSacrificed bandwidth to hear your voice
And the chills only grow deeperAs I view your life standing on its edgesDetached yet connected
Close my eyes and imagine your fearYour angerYour indelible mark left on heartsYour dreamsYour hopesYour life
You have become a statementYour life dissected by othersI wonder how you would have seen this
How do we see what others will see of usOnce we are no more?Once our life is left in the hands of others?
Do we just become pawns in someone else's game?
And I try and make sense of my own lifeThrough what fragments are left of your ownOf your life