“Piececitos” by Gabriela Mistral (Favorite Poem Project)

“Piececitos” de Gabriela Mistral, Chilena. Piececitos de niño, / azulosos de frío, /
¡cómo os ven y no os cubren, / Dios mío! / ¡Piececitos heridos / por los guijarros todos, /
ultrajados de nieves / y lodos! / El hombre ciego ignora /que por donde pasáis, /
una flor de luz viva / dejáis; / que allí donde ponéis / la plantita sangrante, /
el nardo nace más / fragante. / Sed, puesto que marcháis / por los caminos rectos, /
heroicos como sois / perfectos. / Piececitos de niño, / dos joyitas sufrientes, /
¡cómo pasan sin veros / las gentes! My name is Maria Cristina Sanchez Escobar. I am 56 years old. I’m living in Millbrook,
New York. I came here 4 years ago, that’s all. I am a sister, Francisca Misionerio Mary. I became a nun. I was in Chile when I was a little girl, and my
parents sent me to a Catholic school in first grade. When I went there with the Salesian Sisters, what I loved
very much what the sisters were doing there, you know; they pray every day, they went to chapel, and I
told my parents. And my parents told me, “You? Nun? Never.” And that moment, they took me from this school
and I went to public school in Chile. But I continue with that idea, you know, to serve other people, to go in the mission to
live with people from other places, and to be consecrated to God. This was something very
strong in me from the little girl. – … The place where Jesus was born. Pesebre comes from pesebrera,
and pesebrera is the place where the animals eat. I feel the core of God, you know. To work with
the children, for me, is my mission, you know. -Very good. -Your hands are warm.
-My hands are warm? Yeah, it’s good. Maybe it’s because I am
handicapped, I am disabled, too. I feel that other children, they didn’t have the love that I
received in my family, and I want to give this love to them. That they feel that they are the only thing that I have in this world,
they ask me, “Cristina, why are you here?” the children ask me. I said, “Because you are here.
The only reason for me is you are here.” “Little Feet”by Gabriela Mistral Little feet of children / blue with cold, /
how can they see you and not cover you / dear God! / Little wounded feet / cut by every stone, /
hurt by snow / and mire. / Man, blind, does not know / that where you pass, /
you leave a flower / of living light. And where you set / your little bleeding foot, /
the spikenard blooms / more fragrant. / Walking straight paths, / be heroic, little feet, /
as you are / perfect. / Little feet of children, / two tiny suffering jewels, /
how can people pass / and not see you!

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