Poem for Tyrants

sentient beings are numberless—
I vow to enlighten them all
The First Vow of Buddhism

it seems I must love even you
easier loving the pretty things
the children       the morning-glories
easier          (as compassion grows)
to love the stranger

easy even to realize       (with compassion)
the pain and terror implicit in those
who treat the world around them
with such brutality      such hate

but oh     I am no christ
blessing my executioners
I am no buddha       no saint
Nor have I that incandescent strength
Of faith illuminated

yet     even so
you are a sentient being
breathing this air
even as I am a sentient being
breathing this air
seeking my own enlightment
I must seek yours

if I had love enough
if I had faith enough
perhaps I could transcend your path
and alter even that

forgive me, then—
I cannot love you, yet