I see beauty in death of this sort.
The kind that comes from wrapping
oneself around
what needs to happen,
and one more comes along,
and one more,
and one more,
until the government
calls it an uprising.
But it is merely a rising up,
a cause worthy
of the courage of a few multiplied times 50
One dies,
and one more,
and one more.
A mom cries, a dad screams,
people scatter…
A soul is reborn.
Maybe he lives down the street from me;
Maybe he is you…or my brother…my best friend.
Maybe we can be so strong
here in America.
This is the official blog of One Dharma Nashville. Our sangha meets for meditation and discussion Monday evenings at 7:00 p.m. at 2301 12th Avenue South (corner of 12th and Linden), Suite 202. Enter using the stairs at the back of the building and the door on the right. Newcomers are encouraged to arrive 15 minutes early for orientation.
A Poem for Peace in Burma
by A.L.
I see beauty in death of this sort.
The kind that comes from wrapping
oneself around
what needs to happen,
and one more comes along,
and one more,
and one more,
until the government
calls it an uprising.
But it is merely a rising up,
a cause worthy
of the courage of a few multiplied times 50
One dies,
and one more,
and one more.
A mom cries, a dad screams,
people scatter…
A soul is reborn.
Maybe he lives down the street from me;
Maybe he is you…or my brother…my best friend.
Maybe we can be so strong
here in America.
This is poignant, A.L. Thank you for sharing it with us.