A Teacher Looking for His Student (Thay's poem)

(At the edge of the forest the wild plum trees have burst into flower)

I have been looking for you, my child, 

Since the time when rivers and mountains still lay in obscurity. 

I was looking for you when you were still in a deep sleep 

Although the conch had many times echoed in the ten directions.

Without leaving our ancient mountain I looked at distant lands 

And recognized your steps on so many different paths.

Where are you going, my child? 

There have been times when the mist has come

And enveloped the remote village but you are still 

Wandering in far away lands. 

I have called your name with each breath,

Confident that even though you have lost your

Way over there you will finally find a way back to me. 

Sometimes I manifest myself right on the path

You are treading but you still look at me as if I were a stranger 

You cannot see the connection between us in our former lives 

You cannot remember the old vow you made. 

You have not recognized me 

Because your mind is caught up in images concerning a distant future. 

In former lifetimes you have often taken my hand

and we have enjoyed walking together. 

We have sat together for a long time at the foot of old pine trees. 

We have stood side by side in silence for hours 

Listening to the sound of the wind softly calling us 

And looking up at the white clouds floating by.

You have picked up and given to me the first red autumn leaf 

And I have taken you through forests deep in snow. 

But wherever we go we always return to our

Ancient mountain to be near to the moon and stars 

To invite the great bell every morning to sound,

And help living beings to wake up. 

We have sat quietly on the An Tu Mountain with the 

Great Bamboo Forest Master

Alongside the frangipani trees in blossom. 

We have taken boats out to sea to rescue the boat people as they drift. 

We have helped Master Van Hanh design the Thang Long capital 

We have built together a thatched hermitage, 

And stretched out the net to rescue the nun Trac Tuyen 

When the sound of the rising tide was deafening 

On the banks of the Tien Duong river. 

Together we have opened the way and stepped

Into the immense space outside of space. 

After many years of working to tear asunder the net of time,

We have saved up the light of shooting stars 

And made a torch helping those who want to go home

After decades of wandering in distant places. 

But still there have been times when the

Seeds of a vagabond in you has come back to life 

you have left your teacher, your brothers and sisters 

Alone you go…

I look at you with compassion 

Although I know that this is not a true separation 

(Because I am already in each cell of your body) 

And that you may need once more to play the prodigal son. 

That is why I promise I shall be there for you

Any time you are in danger. 

Sometimes you have lain unconscious on the hot sands of frontier deserts.

I have manifested myself as a cloud to bring you cool shade. 

Late at night the cloud became the dew 

And the compassionate nectar falls drop by drop for you to drink. 

Sometimes you sit in a deep abyss of darkness

Completely alienated from your true home. 

I have manifested myself as a long ladder and

Lightly thrown myself down

So that you can climb up to the area where there is light 

To discover again the blue of the sky and the

Sounds of the brook and the birds.

Sometimes I recognised you in Birmingham, 

In the Do Linh district or New England. 

I have sometimes met you in Hang Chau, Xiamen, or Shanghai 

I have sometimes found you in St. Petersburg or East Berlin. 

Sometimes, though only five years old, I have

Seen you and recognized you.

Because of the seed of bodhicitta, you carry in your tender heart. 

Wherever I have seen you, I have always raised

My hand and made a signal to you,

Whether it be in the delta of the North, Saigon or the Thuan An Seaport.

Sometimes you were the golden full moon hanging

Over the summit of the Kim Son Mountain, 

Or the little bird flying over the Dai Lao forest during a winter night. 

Often I have seen you 

But you have not seen me, 

Though while walking in the evening mist your clothes have been soaked.

But finally you have always come home. 

You have come home and sat at my feet on our ancient mountain

Listening to the birds calling and the monkeys screeching 

And the morning chanting echoing from the Buddha Hall. 

You have come back to me determined not to be a vagabond any longer.

This morning the birds of the mountain joyfully welcome the bright sun. 

Do you know, my child, that the white clouds

Are still floating in the vault of the sky? 

Where are you now? 

The ancient mountain is still there in this

Place of the present moment. 

Although the white-crested wave still wants to

Go in the other direction, 

Look again, you will see me in you and in every leaf and flower bud. 

If you call my name, you will see me right away. 

Where are you going? 

The old frangipani tree offers its fragrant flowers this morning. 

You and I have never really been apart. Spring has come. 

The pines have put out new shining green needles 

And on the edge of the forest,

The wild plum trees have burst into flower.

Published in The Mindfulness Bell, Issue #25, Winter 200