SO SAY THE BUDDHISTS

The Buddhists say we are all connected

The coffee plantation in Africa and breakfast in New York

My coffee cup and a Chinese factory worker

The rice paddy that gave her supper

The exploding star that formed the iron of which the plow is made

The exploding star that made the iron for the bullets in my enemy’s gun

My enemy who would shoot those bullets at me

The iron in my body’s blood

The iron in the blood of the other political party, who stands under my flag

We are all connected, all one

My enemy as my beloved are all one with me

Everything is mine, is me

And I am one with everything

Makes me think twice about rage, about hate

About causing anyone harm, anything

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