POETRY

A Spray of Jasmine

Political developments in South East Asia, 2010

The day of her release, Suu Kyi wound flowers

Into the hair behind her head: a spray

Of jasmine. She looked lovely doing so,

Something a man my age can safely say,

For she is no child. Who knows if her powers

Extend to the real world? We have to go

On what we see, the people’s thirst for her.

Today no junta general would look good

With floral attributes, or hear his name

Made music by the crowds, and if it were,

The reason would be drearily the same

As always, and too readily understood:

The crowds would be afraid. Her graceful calm

Means gentleness, as long as we recall

That Comrade Duch, who also has his poise

And clean-cut looks, for all he lacks her charm,

To most of us meant nothing much at all

When separating children from their toys

In his quiet way. Brought to the killing tree

And smashed to death, they saw a face to trust.

As cool as ever, all humility,

He now denies his guilt. Because we must –

Led by the hand of history as we are

Into the prison where the innocent

Die of their agony so very far

From all our thoughts, no matter how well meant –

We give our hearts to her for being there.

Such beauty has to be benevolent:

Look at her face, the flowers in her hair.

-- Standpoint, April 2011