Sunday, August 5, 2012

My Moroccan Quan Yin

I'm circling the words I wrote last year
And the forms created in the garden
There is a story in them of how love falls apart
How we are left standing, sitting, clinging to the ground
Facing the wind and the rubble

In the dream, my grandmother comes wrapped in Quan Yin
She follows her heart to my smile and rests there
The sorrows of hate are washed away from her
She is blessing the people she once cursed

1 comment:

  1. Really enjoying the dream images this poem brings, the power of healing, "She is blessing the people she once cursed." May all the ancestors find such peace!