A Poem: A Tribute

I think of Thich Nhat Hanh
and my pen keeps drawing circles.

Circles that disappear into themselves,
to return wider and expansive,
to then dissolve into the earth and sky.

I think of Thich Nhat Hanh
and my pen stills to silence.

There is something that I carry
from the teachers, the peacemakers,
the poets—

it is the presence remaining,
breathed in,
this enabling to live my days.

It is,
as in Christ’s last supper,
a blessing given

in the dying, that the gift is widened,
spread as blossoms on the wind.

Or, as Thich Nhat Hanh,
has said,

how we would not find him ‘there’
or ‘here’,
but on the breath.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2022

‘I have a disciple in Vietnam that wants to build a stupa for my ashes when I die. He and others want to include a plaque with the words “Here lies our beloved teacher”. I told them not to waste the temple land.
“Do not put me in a small pot and put me in there !” I said. “ I don’t want to continue like that. It would be better to scatter the ashes outside to help the trees grow.”
I suggested that if they still wanted to build a stupa, they have the plaque say, “I am not in here.” But in case people don’t get it, they could add a second plaque, “ I am not out there either.” If they still don’t understand you can write on a third and last plaque, “I may be found in your way of breathing and walking.”
-Thich Nhat Hanh