CW: “The Wound” speaks as much to the experience of watching political change from afar— and the experience of being away from home, more generally— as it does to anything else. Could you tell me a bit about what it was like to be abroad when the Saffron Revolution began? You were in the United States, at the University of Iowa’s International Writing Program at the time. Do you remember when you first heard the news, and how that affected you?

Khet Mar: Yes, I was in Iowa at that time. I felt sad to see the crackdown on monks and people who were marching peacefully, and I wanted to be there with my friends who were leading and participating in it. I was also worried about my friends and the students who became leaders of Saffron, and leaders of the Student Union formed during the Saffron Revolution.

CW: It was these friends and acquaintances whose significance you reflect on in “The Wound,” and who now exist as so central to how we think about the events of 2007, as well as their continued relevance now. Can you tell me why you chose to write about these individuals and their release? What do you think they represent for Burma/Myanmar?

Khet Mar: I think they are important because they have changed the history of Burma, both in 1988 and because of their efforts in the Saffron Revolution. Through them, the world knew what had happened in Burma, and who had made the country worse. These students and activists had spent most of their lifetime in commitment to the nation. I chose to write about them because they are the ones who got the longest imprisonment terms (65 years each) despite the fact that they had all already spent many years of their lives in prison, for 1988 and for follow-up demonstrations afterward. They lost their youth, that stage of their lives, because they acted in order to better the situation of the country. Without them, Burma would not have gotten to its current situation— for example, having a civilian government. Their release was not only important for me, but for them, and for the country because they have huge voices that speak to the world, and they have chosen to use their voices.

CW: At the time of this national amnesty, reporters and analysts alike portrayed the release of activists— including prominent figures such as Min Ko Naing, Ashin Gambira, Khun Tun Oo, and Ko Ko Gyi— as a moment of hope for Myanmar’s political trajectory. As the Democratic Voice of Burma wrote in a breaking news release: “Unprecedented events today in Burma, and the strongest signal yet of genuine reform? Let’s wait and see.”

We now look back on the events of 2012, and those of 2007, with some distance. It’s been 5 years since you wrote this poem, and 10 since Saffron. Do you feel the same as you described in this poem watching the country from afar now? Have your feelings changed?

Khet Mar: To be honest, I feel a little bit different than I described in the poem. I wrote in the poem:

With the zeal of a possessed clairvoyant,
A lane into the future has been rebuilt.
Their strength glitters into gold.
They harden into diamonds

I now feel they have less the zeal of a possessed clairvoyant, that their strength has become less golden and that some of them are no longer as diamonds. But I still feel the same for the following paragraph:

What they do every day,
I don’t do it once in a lifetime.
I call it ‘the gap…’ between us.
So, they are the saints, who have
Walked through multilayered walls.
I am the sinner imprisoned in the outer space,
Burning in my own ignoramus fire.

My feelings watching Burma from afar haven’t changed. My country has same problems as before, and although some things get better, some get worse. Especially, I feel these days are the worst.

The Wound (2012), written by Khet Mar and translated by Ko Ko Thett, is available online at Warscapes Magazine.