by Indran Amirthanayagam
Does the Sun rise
for me? Or if not
for me, does it rise
for my brother,
for my sister?
What about
the sun rising
over Tehran
or Gaza,
London,
or Doha?.
Does the sun
rise for me?
Who is
my brother?
Who is
my sister,
the mother
wailing beside
the rubble
of the school,
her girls
bombed
to bits?
Does the Sun
rise anyway
over killing fields?
Does it rise
over our bodies
thrashing
in the dark?
Does it rise
exposing
the open
grave?
Does it rise
helping plants
to bloom?
Does it rise
whether
we live
or die?
Indran Amirthanayagam writes a Substack. He has just published Isla itinerante ( Editorial Apogeo, Peru, 2025) and White Space Sonnets ( Sarasavi publishers, Sri Lanka, 2025). His other publications include El bosque de deleites fratricidas ( RIL Editores), Seer (Hanging Loose Press),The Runner's Almanac (Spuyten Duyvil), Powèt Nan Pò A: Poet of the Port (Mad Hat), and Ten Thousand Steps Against the Tyrant (Broadstone Books). He is the translator of Kenia Cano’s Animal For The Eyes (Dialogos Books) and Origami: Selected Poems of Manuel Ulacia (Dialogos Books). He edits The Beltway Poetry Quarterly, hosts the Poetry Channel on YouTube, and publishes poetry books with Sara Cahill Marron at Beltway Editions.
