Faces: A Poem

For my final creative presentation, I wrote a poem in Spanish that was a composition of my experiences. I translated it to English, and although I like it better in Spanish, I want to share it and thus share some of my experiences and new thoughts. Here goes.

I could tell stories of bubbling volcanoes,
of beaches as beautiful as deserted islands,
of rain forests full of monkeys and exotic birds.
But how would you see me?
Would you see me as the same girl who said good-bye 3 months ago?
I am not that girl. I'm a different person.
The volcanoes, the beaches, the rain forests didn't change me.
The faces of the people, that's what changed me.

The face of my Nicaraguan father
working in a pineapple field
for food each day
for his family
for his one-room shack.
Living for today, hoping for a better tomorrow.
He doesn't ask for more.
Don't pity him. Don't just give him money.
Which is better: a life of wealth, loneliness, and sadness
or a life of poverty, love, and happiness?
Learn from him. Give his kids the same opportunities that your kids have.

The face of a prostitute
working with a man between her legs
without value
without love
only thinking about her 5 kids
She doesn't ask for more.
Don't scorn her. Don't tell her she has other options.
Which is worse: sex or hunger?
Value her. Give her other options. Give her hope.

The face of a gay minister
knowing his difference since age 6
wanting to change himself
wanting to change his life
All he asks for is acceptance.
Don't judge him. Don't preach to him.
Which is worse: a gay man who's alive or a dead man?
Listen to his story. Accept him.

The face of a student in the back of the class
writing notes off the board
not knowing what they read
not knowing the alphabet
or one single letter.
All he asks for is a little attention.
Don't just give him the answers. Don't ignore him.
Which is better: an illiterate 3rd grader or a literate 2nd grader?
Be patient. Help him. Teach him.

The face of an 8 year old child
watching the Marines capture her dad
watching the Marines beat her mom
for nationalistic ideas in a country that isn't her own
in a country that's an illegitimate child of the United States.
All she asks is to see her father again.
Don't send the American military. Don't justify war.
Which is worse: democracy at the cost of the wealthy
or socialism at the cost of thousands of lives?
Leave her country. Give her peace. Return her father.

And now, you may see me as radical, liberal, maybe even lost.
All I ask is that you see my face.
Which is worse: knowledge in silence or passion with a voice?
Listen to me. Continue loving me. Look at my face.



*Basically, what I tried to convey in the poem was the ease at making judgments, build walls, and name sins when stories are generalized. When we get to know people, their stories become personal and we discover that some things aren't as clear as black and white. War. Poverty. Homosexuality. Prostitution. It's easy to draw lines and hate, but God calls us above that. God calls us to love and accept all. When we see people's faces behind the statistics, we care a whole lot more about what the statistics talk about.