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There seems to have been a lot of searches for buddhist poetry that end upon this site, so I thought, well, then I should put up some. Here is oneof the poems that I wrote during the Kosovo war.

Who am I?

(inspired by Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh)

I am my Kosovar friend Samir,
lost somewhere,
maybe dead, maybe alive,
I am his fear, his terror, pain,
I am his mother, father, sister, brother,
running, running, running.

I’m your smile, my friend,
I’m your hospitality, your home,
your family that welcomed me so warmly,
your love and love and love.

I’m your people, chased away from your homes,
I’m your posessions left behind, your only home in flames,
I’m your despair, your rage, your hatred,
I’m your courage and courage and courage.

I’m my Serbian friend Dejan,
under attack in Novi Sad,
I’m my niece running to shelter,
fearing for her life, for her two children,
I’m her children, one just born,
born to this cruel world, where bombs fall from the sky,
world where air raid sirens howl every night,
I’m her love, her heart,
her will to live,

I’m the Serb people,
proud and defiant,
I’m your anger, your propaganda machine,
your patriotic songs,
I’m: “We’ll defend our homeland at every cost!”,
blaring from TV screens every hour,
I’m your leader, your generals,
I’m your missiles, guns,
your genocide, your ethnic cleansing,
your hearts turned to stone,
my heart turned to stone,
Nato’s hearts turned to stone,
world’s hearts turned to stone.

I’m a NATO pilot dropping his deadly load,
sitting silently in his cockpit,
trying to forget,
and forget and forget,
forget that we are human,
forget that bombs kill,
forget, forget.

I’m the 900kg bomb dropping from
F117 stealth fighter,
seeking its target,
praying, praying “let me not kill too much, not too much”,
dropping on my stone heart
shattering it to thousand pieces.

And I’m love, love that will not die,
that does not look away,
does not turn back on you, on me,
on Serbs, Albanians, Nato,
one that’s not gonna give up, not give up,
give up on humanity.

I’m the Buddha,
the Buddha in you,
the Buddha in the bomb, in the pilot, in the sky,
in a spring bud
and a child’s smile.

I’m my friend Sonny Bears tribe in North Dakota,
silent all day,
praying for peace,
praying for love, for understanding,
praying, praying for all of us.

And I’m compassion,
compassion that flows from within,
the wounded heart,
the healer’s heart,
the world’s heart.
I’m the willow branch of bodhisattva Quan Te Am,
her nectar of tears flowing down my cheeks,
I am you.
Clarity of the Heart