Letter to Galle --for the festival
I sent a poem
but have not yet
had a reply.
I believe the editors
are travelling
or perhaps
they have landed
in the free state
of Galle
for the festival;
I don’t know
if to go or stay,
afternoon teas
with poetry seem
the right way to set
mood and wet palate
before celebratory
readings
by prose stars
in the evenings
and then a few
drinks and to bed,
waking up in morning
panel discussions
where the unpleasant
but necessary
subject of domestic
rights will be aired
with no restrictions,
even for the cameras;
how could I miss
the sea breeze
and hot prawns,
imbibe that rare air
blown by special
bellows during
the few days
when Galle
becomes Berlin
after the Wall
fell down, at least
for ticketed
customers
and scholarship
students. In the end,
even freedom of
expression must be
paid for by somebody.
Yet, I digress.
There are journalists
in hiding and
/or dead.
Indran Amirthanayagam, January 27, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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1 comment:
Wow. How highly evocative. Lovely read.
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