by Elancharan Gunasekaran
Kill The Messenger
Peeling the hood from shaved head, fingers grip tight. “It” struggles. Feeding the enemy, magic for magic. My wildfire to its tiny ember. Carefully I sift through the memories, siphoning conversations, maps, war plans. The euphoria fades and its life is gone. Gates unlock, another subject waits to be probed.
Noon, the north men come. Weaving through the woodland, some on twos, some on fours. Cannibalistic barbarians. Savages! We call them di suni – ice death. In the trees, I balance on branch tip. Watch their approach. The forest turns cold, pale and azure mists spreading like wildfire. I run, from hell.
They say a dragon has two hearts, maybe three. The harpoon sticks out from emerald scales, dragon thrashing on the rocky coast. Blood like fire, more like acid; spills into the sea. Smell of burning from above, sails alit with dragon fire. The ship rocks violently, the weight of another, dragon…
Elancharan Gunasekaran is inspired by Dadaist movements, butoh and anarchism. He believes that humans are capable of governing themselves without the need of political systems. His art often involves experimenting with visual and literary forms on the raw aspects of the human condition, climate change and man-made/ natural phenomena.