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Tim Hawkes, USA

#2

Hundreds of pinwheels spin in the autumn wind, each one next to a small statue of Jizo, who watches over the souls of stillborns, miscarriages, and aborted fetuses. The images stand in long rows: three deep, one row higher than the next; each with a large, round head, closed eyes and pursed lips, tiny hands with fingers extended, and palms pushed together in prayer. Some are bare stone, but most are decorated, commonly with a pinwheel, a knit cap, and a bib. Many have caps bright red yarn; on others, only a few gray tatters remain. I stop to contemplate an older Jizo, its features worn almost entirely away by wind and rain. Someone has tied a new bib around its neck.

At one end of the line of statues stands a large bulletin board of sorts, on which hang many wooden tablets. Each bears a hand-written message. I read a few in English: "Little baby: We are so sorry we could not keep you. Please forgive us." "Dear one: We will always love you."

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