Thich Nhat Hanh Instructs
In Thich Nhat Hanh’s books,
words fall like soft-petaled koans
against the dense earth of my brain:
“There is no birth; there is no death.”
Put through an on-line English-to-Buddhist
translator, this means,
“There is no past; there is no future,”
leaving me where the Buddha wants me:
in the moment, trying to fathom no-fear
of no-death because it lurks in the no-future.
Newly-minted fugitive from doom, I am
free to learn terms in Hanh’s books (but not
my Western Webster’s) like “non-self”
and “interbeing,” which connect disparate
elements so neatly I want to slow-pour their
syllables over that stubborn sense of me.
“There cannot be a sheet of paper without
clouds, forest, and rain,” Hanh offers
by way of example; I realize this poem
cannot be without the clouds, forest,
and rain I write it on, the interbeing
of unseen readers, the forecast every poem
clings to in the brevity between now
and the nothingness that consumes it.
*
Ken Craft’s poetry has appeared in The Writer’s Almanac, The Pedestal, Spillway, and numerous other journals and e-zines. His poem “The Pause Between” will appear in the Pushcart Prize XLIX: Best of the Small Presses 2025 Edition. He is the author of three poetry collections, most recently Reincarnation & Other Stimulants (2021).
Lovely—and oh so helpful in those moments when I forget these powerful truths. Thanks!
Wonderful Poem, especially paired with Tim Suermondt’s memory of Vietnam.