The words of the poor
are knives
that bury themselves in our flesh
and cut,
and hurt,
and draw out
infection.
The cry of the poor
is clear water
that rinses off our makeup;
we can let the mask fall.
The eyes of the poor
are two mirrors,
we need not be afraid
to see ourselves there.
That nearness of the poor
reveals Jesus,
excellent Counselor,
God with us,
Prince of Peace,
Fire that burns away
all chaff
and purifies gold!
Life is painful
because of the ones who have died.
Joy is painful
because of the ones who are crying.
Love is painful
because of the ones who hate.
And while I am loving, laughing and crying,
I am waiting for you, my Lord
* Julia Esquivel, Guatemalan poet and theologian. Threatened with resurrection and The Certainty of Spring are two of her books.