Burma, America, The World, Art, Literature, Political Economy through the eyes of a Permanent Exile. "We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the oppressed. Sometimes we must interfere. . . There is so much injustice and suffering crying out for our attention . . . writers and poets, prisoners in so many lands governed by the left and by the right." Elie Wiesel, Nobel Peace Prize Speech, 1986, Oslo. This entire site copyright Kyi May Kaung unless indicated otherwise.
Tuesday, November 11, 2025
Please call me by my true names--by Rev. Thich Nhat Hanh
https://www.upaya.org/2022/02/please-call-me-by-my-true-names-a-poem-by-thich-nhat-hanh/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=22801614620&gclid=CjwKCAiA2svIBhB-EiwARWDPjucoe8T8LE2AE8i24OmaFx2PfESixdREcPNaF0gQau4EH4qpauKWLhoCQe4QAvD_BwE
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.
My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh tells the story of the poem on the Plum Village Website:
I was just wondering how it must have felt for Aung Zeya (later King Alaunghpaya) as a boy growning up in the Kabaw Valley to experience a Manipuri raid and I found this.
It's all there, except the sounds, the mud, the dirt, the screams, the rapes--the fear, the tears, common to war. https://www.youtube.c...
-
Directed by Miloš Forman Screenplay by Peter Shaffer Based on Amadeus by Peter Shaffer Mozart and Salieri by Alexander Pus...
-
https://www.ecoticias.com/en/traffic-lights-fourth-color/10086/