Poem: Untitled Poem 2

In the kitchen late at night,my mother takes care of an injured wild bird to show her daughter how to love. I bathed my mother's cold and still body as best I could. I started the fire and went outside to watch my mother's warmth rise into the tree, into the birds, and the sky.

I have a face that only a mother can love. Do you too? How miraculously poignant is the love a son can give his mother, especially a son who knows he has the face that only a mother can love. If only we could bottle that tenderness and give it away on street comers. But of course we can. One of my teachers is a tree by a meadow. I think it is also the teacher of my teacher, and the student of our great, great, great grandfather ancestor which must be the reason I am here today .

Sister Thuc Nghiem Plum Village, France

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