Forbidden here, but spoken
the speakers of this language are granted with a death token
I’am an Identity
mounted in history
born and gone, gone and reborn
but here I’am torn
bloody storms rained bombs
This identity was wrong
My name is Tamil
I’am spoken, I’am worn
Here on this Island, Sri Lanka
being Tamil was wrong
Over 3000 killed in mere 10days
Property destroyed, 150,000 displaced
It was no accident, it was a plotted chase
to abolish and remove the entire Tamil race
Tortured behind bars
Left with permanent scars
can’t get far once they find out who you are
This is a place where even crossing the street is hard
buildings burnt down, nothing left but the rubble
breath held in without a sound, being Tamil meant you struggle
This is where the prisons housed the innocent
Where the prisons became the grave yard
As the criminals roamed freely rounding up politicians to the jail house
Undressed, Unfed
Abused and harassed
Questions refused and answered with a whip slash
No court hearing, trials, or bail
You just know when family’s missing
they’re either dead or in jail
left to die
Haunted streets of amused children
singing songs before they screamed
as the school bus ventured through the streets
Fire was set to every single seat
frantic thud in little hearts
skin peeling off its over now
Smoke filling lungs, it’s over crowd
coughing gasping, eyes well up
thrashing pleading
no one helps
Dreams turn to ash in blazing flames
till it all goes grey and none remain
An identity was wrong the government claimed
racist and murderous, an ethnicity disgraced
armed mobs for slaying
out to eliminate
and here lied aTamil’s fate
of 1983
when anyone Tamil was a target for a killing spree.
.Rest In Peace.
Tags: Poetry/Art
