Ann: Just Because

By Nimal Gunatilleke

When someone who becomes a part of your life, someone you chose, dies suddenly, the event changes the way you view the world. When there is love that is shared, despite the agony and bewilderment of loss, something else appears: the memory of that which enriches us and makes our lives seem wonderful. It is the shared joys and sorrows. Nothing is lost in time, it seems, and time might not even be a part of love. This cycle of poems is a recollection as a man tries to fathom what comes from loss and love. It is a story that many share.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524525637

Nimal Gunatilleke

Nimal was born on a tropical island and came to the United States to learn and explore. He did not quite bargain for the wonderful, painful, happy journey he made. He did some of the things he set out to do and others that he did not quite think he would. Along the way, he loved Ann, studied economics, read poetry, and marveled at the changing seasons.

Book preview

Farewell to Summer

She waves a quiet good-bye,

And slowly she drifts away, sunlit.

Lovers and friends look on and sigh

As they gaze quietly, sun-kissed.

She waves a quiet good-bye

And flutters in the morning breeze

In the sunlit and clear blue sky.

And now, time the lullaby wind to seize.

She dances a slow and wayward dance

And looks back for a quiet good-bye.

All those left behind wait their chance

To catch the sunlit lullaby breeze.

She moves like the butterfly,

And she moves like the breeze.

Her graceful dance like fall,

For all the eyes of those to please.

Slowly she falls, a journey sure and clean,

Into the arms of a comforting earth,

Away from the place she has been.

To be home among all the rest like her.

Golden now, in time be brown

Like all the others there.

Color changing to match the mood.

Her turn; her time was fair.

The Omen

I walked by on a quiet morning,

When the day was new and few were about.

Across the street—the struggle, it caught my eye.

I was stopped, impaled where I stood

By the quiet of it all.

An unseen rush and an accident

Had knocked him down.

Broken, battered but left alive.

He was dragging, dragging his unfeeling legs behind

To move from further harm and hurt.

More pain, no voice, uncomplaining, no murmur

I heard; how he tried to lift all of self with his arms.

I watched unable, unwilling to lend a hand,

My body unmoved to cross the near-empty road.

I, too, silent, watched, torn inside,

And thought, he is marked for death.

Nothing for me to do or say, go on, but—

Will he die soon, no more suffering

And absolve the guilt

Of duty and task undone?

Will I be kind and help or try?

Inside me, the voice was strong, clear, and, No!

This is nature’s task; I cannot cure,

Help, nor mend, nor make whole.

So, watch silent, accept, and bear, what pain!

Soon it will rain; the skies were gray.

The broken one will need shelter, warmth,

Or will not see another day.

Will I play God or, better, be man?

Help or even hurt within, be who I am?

I let it be, did not cross the street.

Safe at home, I thought, inside the rain

Of what I was and what I had done,

Why not to have helped or have even tried

To leave him lonely and certain to die.

As I walked on the street again the next day,

I hoped the gods had held sway,

Taken the broken thing, and