Metamórfosis

Hearken and hear this…
you who are come forth out of the waters of Judah.
Isaiah 48:1

I don’t know if I am a man or a creature of the mud.

At times, I have seen you from below,
tossing crumbs of bread into the silent lake.

At times, sheltered behind a tree,
I have traced every line of your face as you slept,
cradled by water lilies.

At times, in the blaze of the twilight,
I have seen my deformed face
reflected in a ragged rock,
or in the crimson outline of a bird.

Somehow, those visions justify me.

Yesterday, from the secrecy of your room,
I heard you sing that fable of the maiden,
who, with a simple kiss in a swamp,
molded a pale man in her own likeness.

Now I know that if ever you submerge
beneath the canopy of the sycamores,
I too will rise and be reborn.

Perhaps as a man,
or in another form of clay.