Kuan Yin in The Garden A storm moved through yesterday, leaves in the yard already browning. I bend in the garden to clear broken twigs, whisper a greeting to Kuan Yin who sits among the sea grasses, stony hands in mudra. The dead work here in the garden with me– pleasant folk, you understand–all farmers, aged, except for one child not yet old enough to walk. I kneel, pull weeds–mother slips by, offers me her shovel as they chatter, hoes in hand, Kuan Yin still wordless.
Kathleen Goldblatt is a poet and training member of the CG Jung Institute of New England and the IRSJA. Her work appears in four editions of the Wickford Poetry and Art Book; her chapbook, Our Ghosts Wait Patiently, is due in fall 2022. Kathleen lives in Newport, Rhode Island.
Amethyst Review 