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One never sees Guanyin actually
moving,  behind her a trail
of flowers reaching all
the way back to hell
where her karma,
blossomed to beauty,
got her kicked out.

If she rests against the wall,
tears seep from her stone face,
her compassion pooling
at her smooth unadorned feet.

If she is caught sitting
as Buddha under the willow,
a line of children and adult
come to sit beside, talking quietly.
Leaving, they walk with tearless eyes
fixed with love on living.

However,  she is not a complete stillness.
One can almost catch her in the act
of emotion,  there is a trick
with secrets she does not know.
Lean in, close to her.
In her ear, whisper,

. . (something only for her to hear) . .

And you’ll hear a quiet outtake of breath,
perhaps even a laugh caught in the throat,
see the sky lighten,
feel the smile of the goddess,
the air crackling with the smells
of vanilla and cinnamon.

(for a great link to a video about “Thousand Hand Guan-Yin”, see Dance of a 1ooo Hands)

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