Sri Lanka
How beautiful for a country,
To come out of her mother’s uterus,
A bundle of rock, sand and clay,
Drifting out through the pelvic bones,
The Western and Eastern Ghats,
She, the infant Sri Lanka, breaking out,
Of the Deccan Plateau, from
Mother India’s womb,
Burrowing through the mucus, the slime,
And the broken waters,
Of the amniotic Indian Ocean,
As Adam’s Bridge, clenches on
To her umbilicus.