Memories flood my mind, mixture of pain, and grief.
Ghosts of the past, faces, voices, seem to show me the way.
Where have I come, this far away from destiny?
How could I have been so blind to what’s ahead of me, from my past.
The broken homes, the empty hopeless lives, the innocent faces of children
of whom the future is uncertain, I take it all in with a deep breath.
I remember the lies, the dream for a better life which was “sold” to me,
to survive, to live and to run, the life I live now seems a waste and a nightmare.
The continuous struggle to fit in, to belong, to be normal, to be able to love,
to have the promised life, the life which seemed so important, seems a lie now to the reality of the brokenness I’m left staring.
The life I was so proud of seems to fade in the face of reality.
I stare at my future, my roots, my misery, my strength and my destiny.
To the past that liberated me!

Author’s note: written when I visited my hometown, Batticaloa, again after leaving it in 1992 to escape conflict.