PEACE
They woke me this morning
to tell me my brother had been killed in battle.
Yet in the garden, uncurling moist petals,
a new rose blooms on the bush.
And I am alive, can still breathe the fragrance of roses and dung,
eat, pray and sleep.
But when can I break my long silence?
When can I speak the unuttered words that are choking me.
poem by
NHAT HANH
drawing by
VO-DINH
IN MEMORIAM: Vietnam 1961 - 1973
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