by Gabriela Mistral
for Dona Isaura Dinator
Children’s little feet,
blue with cold,
how can they see you and not cover you
dear Lord!
Little feet battered
by every stone,
abused by snow
and mud!
Man, blind, does not see
that in your wake
you leave
a flower of living light;
that where you set
your small bleeding sole,
the tuberose blooms more
sweetly.
Be heroic as you walk
the straight paths,
for you are
perfect.
translated by Jessica Powell
From:
Resistencia: Poems of Protest and Revolution
Copyright ©:
2020, Tin House, Portland, Oregon
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