'The Door of Compassion'

This poem speaks to me again and again during hard times. The news yesterday and today about more young black men killed by police officers, along with the weeks of horrifically violent news, brings me back to this and to the question, where does this violence, intolerance, fear, and pain live in me? And how can I be a force of love, peace, and acceptance within myself, my community, and the world?

Please Call Me By My True Names
by Thich Nhat Hanh

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 a mayfly metamorphosing 
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird 
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am a 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 a 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.
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 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 the door of my heart
could be left open,
the door of compassion.