Above the graves at Tonle Sap
pagodas crumble and blend into earth.
Water drips from the bronze genie of the sky.
Four faces stare from the shadows:
eight arms, each one holding carved moons,
birds, children. A chipped sun
in the palm of the highest upturned palm
pushes though curling ferns like an offering.
This is where the monks return to pray.
−From The Endless Repetition of an Ordinary Miracle, © 2010 by Marjory Heath Wentworth