The net they caught her in is made of clay
White porcelain in liquid curves stands still
although she walks within the night (and sometimes day)
Exorcist of nightmares, her breath will
somehow infuse me in my anxious sleep:
a Buddhist dreamcatcher. Her slim hands hold
a stick of incense. The curling smoke seeps
into my nightly war, darkness controlled
and held at bay.
                Childlike, I reject reason
although I know she does not really breathe.
Her quiet strength a graceful talisman
knife blade secret within a porcelain sheath.
In plain sight she guards me hour by hour:
Guanyin, at ease within her gentle power ~