for Cat Pleska and the Martinez family
We are marvelously made—people, miracles
who fit no rigid, singular model. Look
at how our fingers work, how they can hold
another hand, help clear the blur in a friend’s eye.
We can see without limit and count stars.
I see you, brother and sister. I hear your cries
and smell the smoke from the burning in your soul.
I hug you and feel the beat of your troubled heart.
For years, I’ve asked, at the Spanish Mass,
“Lord, I want to see your face.” Señor,
quiero ver tu rostro. At the nativity celebration,
a line of two-year-old Hispanic girls entered
in white dresses with angel wings and walked
to the manger where Mary held her child.
One of the angels stopped, turned to the audience,
and danced to the guitars and song in Spanish
by the choir, el coro. She had every head turned.
Lord, I see your face. Señor, veo tu rostro.
Let me see you in everyone. Let me show the power
of love and forgiveness.