Shirani Rajapakse [Sri Lanka]

 

A Day not so Long Ago 

I have forgotten where
to place my fingers.
They hover over strings wondering
what to do.
             A butterfly
             cautious of
danger lurking
on petals of a flower it wants to
                      sip on.
The deep resonance of a note starts nervously
then fills the room as the bow glides
hesitantly over an open string.
 
Remembrances of a time long past
rise from the shadows like lives
lost in a battlefield no one wants to talk about
anymore.                     You linger in the
                                            background
            like a
lost note on the cello unable
to find the place you are supposed to be, like
my finger
           stopped
           in midair, helpless
at the loss of recollection, knowing it
should be
somewhere, but unable to figure out
the exact place to press
for the right note.
 
You attempt to find your way to
               over there,
               but cannot move from that corner,
agonizing, chained to a forgotten space, invisible
to all,               while my eyes turn to pools
as I contemplate how to coax out
           lessons
           learned many years ago.

 
 
Nostalgia
 
When I was small I used to tell people
who asked me
out of curiosity, that I lived
beyond the town,
along a wide quiet lane that meandered past
rubber trees. The town ended at the bank.
We’d have to walk a long way to get
to the shops, but that didn’t matter to us.
Walking was good.
Besides, the pavements were
nice and sturdy, unlike pavements now;
non-existent.
The shops were small; just enough to hold
goods needed for the few folks
in the neighborhood, and some space for
people to stand.
No browsing, no long aisles with shelves
stacked with food no one really needed.
 
But now the town has grown,
encroached on our lives like we
never imagined.
It walked past the lane to my home
taking every space on the main road.
Big buildings with flashy
exteriors, tall glass windows in shop fronts
to see right through to the inside,
music blaring out at all times.
Nowhere to park,
not even for the old bicyclist.
People walking on the main road jostle
for space with shiny new vehicles
whizzing past this way and that.
Development has taken over yet
people can barely afford it.
Tranquility is only a memory as busses
screech past almost running us over.
The town’s growing, spreading its tentacles in
all directions while homes
disappear into the countryside.
They too may one day be lost forever.
 
 
Soft Notes
 
I lose myself
in your voice. The words you speak.
The deep resonance, a bow
gliding gently across strings in an
empty hall.
 
I travel along the path of sound
to where it takes me.
Expeditions into the unknown.
Secret places that I alone
know the way.
 
Sitting here perched on
an embroidered
cushion alone in my room, devoid
of sound, except for the chirping
crickets in the cold night
I journey through remembered trails your
voice left behind.
 
I exist on two planes.
 
You asked me once if this is possible.
There are things you can’t
fathom and some that I find hard to
explain. But it exists nevertheless.
 
Your voice
is the plane on which I rest.
 
(from “Samsara”, 2022)
 
 
Author’s Bionote:
 
*Shirani Rajapakse is an internationally published, award-winning poet and short story writer from Sri Lanka whose resonant words echo far beyond her island's shores. Hailed as the “Conscience for our Age” and the “Voice that Refused to be Silent,” Rajapakse has seen her work celebrated in global journals, anthologies, and numerous translations. Across her eight books, she has amassed five major literary distinctions—including three prestigious State Literary Awards in Sri Lanka, the Kindle Book Award (USA), and the Boao International Poetry Award (China). Her work has also garnered shortlists for the Gratiaen Awards (Sri Lanka) and the Rubery Awards (UK). Her global impact culminated in 2025 when she was honored with the Gold Medal for Contribution to the Development of World Literature from the World Organization of Writers (Russia) alongside India's Panorama International Literary Award. Her lyrical mastery has further captured European and Asian acclaim, securing Italy's Gran Premio della Giuria (Grand Jury Prize) in the Ossi di Sepia Award as well as the Amilcare Solferini Poetry Contest, and Hong Kong's Cha Poetry Contest.