Please call me by my true names
so I can hear all my cries and
my laughs 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 so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Sometimes, when a bird cries out,
Or the wind sweeps through a tree,
Or a dog howls in a far off farm,
I hold still and listen a long time.
My soul turns and goes back to the place
Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
The bird and the blowing wind
Were like me, were my brothers and sisters.
My soul turns into a tree...