My father told me..

my father told me, quite recently in fact, if I forget to do something that someone asked me to do, that is because, in truth, I didn’t think what was asked of me or the person who asked it from me was important.

when people become unimportant or are in the process of becoming unimportant to you or are taken for granted, we forget. that’s as simple an explanation could get.

and he is right.

my father is important to me, and so is my mother, and a countable few others.

i have to make the most of the time that is given to me with them. And I don’t want them to think that they are taken for granted. besides, it will come easily to me, to love them, to make known that I care for them. i mean, why else am I here on earth?


I want to be four again.

I want to be four again.
The weight I carried then was hardly heavy – didn’t care much for food or for clothes or for anything my twenty six year old mind wants now

I want to be four again – to be content with what’s on a four year olds mind,
To be just the right size to hide under closets, beds, and coffee tables and to squeeze through doorways that are usually barricaded.

Like the kitchen blockade my mother made from scratch (from old peiecs of wood) to stop me from taking the onions and potatoes (two at a time because my hands were small) – for they were round in shape and normally things that were round in shape were meant to be thrown – at least that’s what they do with round shaped things.

Like the bathroom blockade that was put up to prevent me from squeezing bottles of shampoo more than that was necessary to bathe my dolls….

I would be four again, if I could.

– Su De Zoysa

24th August twenty eighteen.

Counting all the blessings of the things You have done and the things You have stopped,
Reminicing loss and pain,
Many years ago, now, and in times to come..
I feel safe knowing when the road ahead is dark, You won’t just be waiting on the other side, but You’ll be with me at all times, holding my hand gently and walking beside me,
And in others, You will walk ahead of me, clearing the way, blocking all the wrong roads with your every step with your every divine breath, and I will walk right behind You, knowing that I am forever safe,
And in some others, when my strength and faith run too low, only hanging by a thread, my heart screaming for answers, and for reasons why,

You will carry me in Your arms – my almost lifeless body and inside me – not a flame as it once used to be, but an ember of Faith, growing cold little by little..
You will carry me, cover me, hide and heal me till that ember sparks again, and grows into the flame that overpowers all doubt, all logic, and all things known and unknown..
Lord, my heart isn’t big enough to hold all the gratitude I have for You.

– Sudakshi De Zoysa

i am proof of a loving God

funny how my faith can rise like a flame of a bonfire
funny how sometimes my faith is smaller than a flame of a lamp of clay
in one moment it just rises and is in full bloom: fierce, great, and all,
and in another, I lose focus,
I question , I cry, I plead, I retreat.

it’s unbelievable what a melody sung in praise of the Lord can do to a restless mind, to a broken soul..
it’s amazing what words of comfort can do to ease an anchored heart.

and better still, when you’re hurting so badly you don’t even know what is causing it-
when you clutch your head with both hands, shut your eyes so tight that tears of pain and confusion struggle to find their way out through the corner of your eyes; your face and chest – all red! – your nerves so visible that one might think they’d pop –
when your heart’s still not steady – and your mind still wobbly because the weight you’ve been carrying is just too, too much – THAT – that is the moment greater than all others – when you just kneel there, your arms outstretched – your faith just hanging by a thread-
you begin to feel it..
you begin to feel as though a huge boulder is being lifted off your shoulders.
you open your eyes and the heavy breathing ceases –
stiffened muscles of your heart loosens and warm blood begins to flow –
And suddenly, all is somehow well and better than before!

That is proof of a loving God.
I am proof of a loving God.
– Su De Zoysa

blossoming paradox

what is certain in this moment?
his eyes? lips?
and nervy wrists?
her long slender neck?
her fingertips?

the world to them came to a standstill – the sound of branches swaying, leaves quivering, and the low hum of the evening wind – were all suddenly inconsequential.

as they remained still and shone under the yellow lamp light,
he gently caressed her back while the night was young
and the dark blue patch of sky above them was like a tapestry from Heaven
visible from the spot where they just

and the overwhelmed stars bore witness
to what was coming to life –
their heads full of the unspoken and the spoken –
their hearts restless and yet so calm at the same time –
and just like that they turned into a living paradox –
fingers interlaced, lost in flickering thoughts,
yet found each other in a loving embrace.

– Su De Zoysa

don’t know much about death or what happens after death. But, if it were allowed, if it were possible, when I die, I’d like to have one thing from this world to take with me: music- a constant acoustic melody in my ear.

So, once I’m gone, I wouldn’t feel as much lonely as I’ve often felt at home. Besides, if I really think about it, it would be nice to look upon the home I once had; its beauty and serenity both amplified by the music humming in my ear. Wouldn’t that be nice?

If it were the case , then death, when it comes, would seem more desirable than life; and I’d be eagerly waiting to go.

Neigh, we don’t want to be part of it.


Thoughts Of May

It's hard to breath than usual.
They've put a bridle, it hurts.
With the pain everywhere I look is blurred.
Pa oh, Pa, I am heavy dressed in armor.
They give me measured water - say it's not all for me -
and it tastes sour -

They say I’ll get used to it - to the sounds of metal clashing to the rage of fire blazing everywhere I go - Pa, I don't like this; take me back to the meadow. How did you breath when the flames soared And these men: who run around with their swords, Flashing steel under the merciless sun, and I can't see a thing; they tug my rein and I run - not further out of the circle of chaos; but towards it, towards its core- and I see no glory - only fury - that fuels their untamed foe and…

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