Kuan
Yin
You sit upon a pedestal of jade
milk green, your light flows liquid from within
pulsing prayer through rivulets of stone.
And so you are a contradiction, made
hard jade, yet soft like sacred love, Kuan Yin.
You guide me even now. Through you I own
my stiff resistance to God’s grace. Afraid
to melt, I keep my edges hard and in
my heart I keep your love, for me alone.
Your right eye holds a tear forever laid
in stone; it holds me too. I drink you in,
search for your source of peace, the deep calm known
and shared by you. Within the jade, Kuan Yin
it’s here. I remember now— compassion. Recorded as
part of the Pacific Asia Museum’s audio tour on its permanent collection
Sunday at
the Lake
The water is lapping on the green.
The light is spilling through the trees.
It fills the lawn and warms the breeze
that plays small ripples on the lake.
It is the golden hour, my love.
Come and join me in this scene.
I will wait for you at the lakeside dock.
The boat can’t leave without us there.
It will take us to a place of peace.
Already quiet is in the air.
It is the golden hour, my love.
The orange light is in your hair.
It flickers on the water and the boat.
It whispers on the branches of the trees.
It is Sunday at the lake.
Come let this golden afternoon
take us into evening’s blue. Let this moment
deepen into prayer. I invite you now
to share the calm. I call you here
inside the frame. The golden light
reaches out its flame.
It will take you to a place of peace.
Come and join me in the scene.
The light is spilling into you and me.
It is the golden hour, my love.
Poets
on Site, inspired by the art of Milford Zornes
The Origin
Is One
for Kotama Okada
The dove knows the way
follow her.
Your heart knows the way
listen well.
Within your deepest self
are wings of light.
They cover the earth
with waves of love.
Do you remember?
You once knew.
Stand in the warmth
of sunlight and recall.
The origin of the world
is one.
The origin of religions
is one.
The origin of all
mankind is one.
Circle back.
Imagine the great will
of all things
stirring in your fingers.
Reach out your arms
and open your palms
to the sky.
It is time.
after the painting "Searching"
by Susan Dobay
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