With reverence we think of you

In memory of my grandfather ~ C.K.B. Weerakoon

Where the green grass grows
And the tender jasmine sways,
A mynah bird sings of forgotten days.
Children race along honeysuckle lanes
To build their dreams in that weathered place.

School rooms where pages turn upon the hour,
And lessons uttered in silver syllables
Still stand like worthy tomes
Though the decades have ebbed away
Through faded ink and torn page.

The hand that ruled there with such defiant grace,
Is the presence that lingers upon my mother’s face,
For she your daughter, a sweet dimpled child
Who ran amok amongst orchards and fields
And played with her brother in brooks and streams
Holds your memory still in her deep loving eyes.

Never wavering, yet seldom dormant
Your spirit moves through her flesh and blood
For a book is never held nor wisdom ever spent
And no word or thought can err too far
Without a return to the lessons you taught.

Moved by your patience and touched by your ways,
With reverence we think of those last precious days
And now, a century after your birth,
That very essence runs through those that remain
And I, a descendant of your pride and faith,
Can only aspire to climb those lofty heights
Where your silent footfall still resides.

May you attain Nibbana

By Sulakshana Pussegoda, England