Saturday, Dec 16, 2017
Home » Commentary » POEM: Many Faces

POEM: Many Faces

Flickr photo of changing seasons by Luke Price

POEM: Many Faces

Share

By Christi Ortiz

I’m a wild, running horse.
I’m a meek, little lamb.
I’m a roaring lion,
and I’m a tiny mouse.

I’m a soaring eagle,
I’m a gentle kitten.
I’m a slow turtle,
and I’m a racing cheetah.

I’m a fluttering butterfly,
I’m a busy bee.
I’m a gnawing termite,
and I’m a building beaver.

I am not one, but all,
and nothing all the same.

Can you see my face?
Can you call my name?

I am hidden, and I am everywhere,
changing every day.
If you try and catch me and hold me,
you’ll only be grasping thin air.

Instead, let me stay alive,
free and never known,
popping my head out,
at the changing of the seasons.

Don’t judge by my looks.
Don’t pretend to know me by my works.
But experience me anew,
like the blowing of the wind.
Leave me nameless,
and let me BE.
Once I was, then I wasn’t,
but I still am today.

I’m ever changing; I never stay the same.
Yet there’s a strand inside of me,
that always was and will be,
that is God.
Will you strain to see me as I am?
Don’t hold on to the cocoon,
just because it is safe.
Let me break out and be created anew.

Do you have to hold on,
or will you let me fly?
Don’t label or categorize,
I do not fit a mold.
You say you love me
because of who I was in the past.
But can you love me now,
and who I will be tomorrow?

Experience me anew each changing moment,
then you love me.
But will you let me be
so free?

Will you let me be born
and die again in a day?
Will you say hello and good-bye
in an instant?

I am not a dead sea,
or a still lake.
I am living, flowing water,
are you strong enough for the intake?

Christi Ortiz

About Christi Ortiz

Christi Ortiz is a licensed marriage and family therapist by profession and a poet by passion.  She enjoys trying to put to words to that which is wordless and give voice to the dynamic and wild spiritual journey called life. She lives in Spokane with her husband and two children, Emmanuel and Grace. She loves the outdoors and meditating in the early mornings which gives rise to her poetry.

View All Posts
Share

Comments

comments

Check Also

“Jesus would bake the cake”

I heard the same quiver in my mother’s voice when she learned she had a gay daughter. She couldn’t reconcile her faith with this kind of motherhood, so she left. I grew up practicing the same faith my mom did, so I understood her abandonment.

Share