His bright ochre robe glowed, like those of his fellow monks, standing in sharp contrast to the dull, shell-torn pavement he sat upon.
Smoke gloomed the horizon and jets whistled above. A curious crowd collected. The monks solemnly intoned an ancient, Buddhist chant. The monk read a poem of his anguish over the war, ending with a plea for peace.
The pungent smell of gas pierced the air as he was doused. The chanting began again. He calmly struck a match, flared into flame, and became a suttee for peace— an ash memorial sent into the Great Void.
Sherdyl Motz is a Vietnam veteran and peace activist.