Anuradhapura

Somewhere in mid- April
sky heats up,
'nawa nagaraya' sweats
to the drought-heavy days.

Every mile ahead -a drive to north
to the other side is a spell of river,
lap of water.

Basawakkulama
painted in blue light and cloud pattern
hits the tank bund -so soft
with a hush
breaks through ,
and ripple dance in a historic beat
soil sucks , gently.

Pic Source : Internet 

Men flutter and drift in bare feet
to the chant of pirith
circling the dagoba
a song of healing,
a call for meditation.

So men become gods
in this city
so thin , so stealthy
coaxing his buffaloes in day break
for harvest
and harvesting.

It is a city that swathe
and wakes
to the drumbeat of getaberaya
and drone of prayer weaving its way from 'udamaluwa'.

It's a city made of king and queen
chronicle and myth,
And ecclesiastical.