The Inner Voice of Who Knows What

the pilgrimage: Henri Nouwen and my own topsy-turvy little heart

Things come together.

I will soon crawl through tunnels where young boys were killed fighting for a democracy they hardly understood…

I swim in the waters that my country graced with destruction in hope of salvation…

I read Shane Claiborne’s plea for creative and humble nonviolence in a world where violence has become the most powerful currency…

I walk among the ruins of My Lai, a product of rage from a war of colonization disguised as

I sing the Beatles’ words that cry out against the death of Vietnamese Prudence and the complacency of allowing strawberry fields to become the norm…

I see Ho Chi Minh’s loving face and the sickle’s reassuring strength in every town, Communism that we so fear but gives so much comfort…

I ride from foreign land to foreign land to foreign land to foreign land in a vehicle dependent on democracy’s next guise…

And all I can say is, xin loi.

I am so sorry.


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One thought on “Things come together.

  1. I guess we all suffer in different ways. Some from wars and some from too much commercialisation. Some from hate and some from ambition. The way the vietnamese took it and are still taking it is very beautiful and innocent.

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