04.01.2008. After the Holy Mass, I saw a strange picture: there was Jesus who was going through an uphill field, pulling a big cross behind Him. The longer beam was grooving a trail of deep furrow. A crowd was following Him. Some were trailing along the furrow and others were separating across the empty field. The horizontal beam of the cross formed something like defending wings, protecting the people following Jesus. I had an impression that those who didn’t trail along the deep furrow (teachings of Jesus), but chose the easier way (the doubtful and looking for the Truth), were also protected by the defensive arms of the cross.
The vision was dark, void of light reflections. Jesus was climbing upwards, dragging the cross painstakingly. I understood that anyone who seeks protection in the arms of the cross - follows Jesus. There are people who do it with great love, they follow the way that He indicated (deep furrow) and there are others (taking the more comfortable route), who are still looking for their way to God.

The arms of the cross are open to every one to be saved. The choice of way is ours, and Jesus is waiting while carrying His cross. “I will be with you until the end of the world”.

 
Power of love

Life hurt me with suffering
Like You with the spear of Longings
Blood and sweat splashed from Your side
Love for You splashed from my heart

I glue over my wound with love given so unexpectedly
Like the bees with a honeycomb
My soul is filled with sweetness
When I share Your suffering with mine

And although I bear my pain in a human way
Like a soldier, injured in a fight
I feel a strange power, kneeling before You
And the trust, irresistible

I ask You, Jesus, my Lord, for one thing
When the world hurts my heart again
Please be like Veronica, cover my face with the veil
And help me like Simon to carry on my cross.

28.01.2008. During Adoration of The Most Holy Sacrament, when the church was almost empty, I concentrated on the inner silence. It occurred to me that it would be great to see Jesus in reality. I was still in silence, without the words of prayer. Somewhere in my heart, I heard, ‘I, the invisible - have contact with the invisible - your soul. The invisible “sees” the invisible. Your soul recognizes Me when she adores Me, we talk to each other. Human eyes see the outside features. And also what is outside - is seen differently by each of you. When I was on earth, I was seen with human eyes … and I was not recognized.’ - I heard it as a silent complaint.

The House on Holy Mountain

I open the book of my life
Like the Bible
Discovered anew among the books on the shelf
I find a chapter that was written
With the years of wandering through my bitter sweet life
I read the words with my heart, not with my eyes

I lived to find you; the only path
That leads to the House
It stands on Holy Mountain
The cross is like a signpost that shines beside it in the sun
The pilgrim’s knees bend under its weight

I look for the window, decorated with unearthly colors
And the door ajar like an unprotected heart
And the table where I will rest
And the food for my constant hunger

Thank You, Lord, for the vision of this House
Thank You for the path that is so unique
And is marked with the Stations of the Cross
Thanks for the window through which happiness flows out
For the door of Your House, opened widely
For the table where Love is laid on.

 
By the church of mine

You stopped, Holy Mother
By the church of mine
Dressed in a stony statue
And You stayed on a timeless vigil
You get wet in the rain
In winter, white snow wraps You up like a fur-coat
You hold an eagle tattered on Your hands
Like a constrained justice
And ordered it to wait patiently
The eagle, Your bird of space and peace
Wants to fly to Heaven and take the complaint
Against the ungrateful …
Your eyes are closed, Mary
As if You couldn’t believe what You see
And want to listen only with Your heart
To the prayers of passersby
There are dark marks on Your face
Like the scars, left by tears
Were they carved by rain or a sculptor?
You get warmed up with the lit-up lamps
And You recognize the echoing steps of the church-goers
Oh, Holy Mother, watching patiently by the church of mine
Exposed to the rain and to our begging tears
To the frost of winter and the chill of our hearts
Please persist with us, icicled in stone
So that we could whisper to You:
“Under Your Protection” …

01.02.2008. My dream that came true three years ago, was the pilgrimage to Israel. The Holy Land was still in my heart. I did want to be there again and follow the footsteps of Christ. On the other hand it was an expensive journey. Maybe I was only being conceited. I questioned my heart during The Holy Mass. Then I saw something that felt like an answer. Namely, a large, beautiful carpet with many vivid colors. In the middle of this fabric was a big, red wheel. Then I heard in my heart that it is Israel -  the source of power of God’s Spirit, it’s the core of Christianity. Christ’s blood that permeated through this land deeply - is God’s strength and power and the pilgrims feed on it. It is not the strength of the country which is beleaguered with conflicts - it is the power of God Who was crossing through this blessed land; the power of The Holy Mother, the collective power of the great prophets and the apostles.

Painful Love

I tell you, Jesus, that I love You
When Ikneel before you, like a contrite sinner
The smell of candles, songs and prayer are up-lifting
And the sight of the faithful who pray, inspiring
The air is dense like clotting balm for a wound.
And rebellion against the rules of the world, is quelled

But there are other moments that I experienced as well
When the hurricane of activities
Sweeps garbage into the heart
When I kneel and say: I love You, Jesus
I come across the wall, like the Weeping Wall of Jerusalem
Then, like a blind person, in silence, without soothing songs
I yearn for Your breath, behind this wall
The words die down, like unfaithful thoughts
And the soul is calling and lamenting

 
This is the time of calling and searching for You, Jesus
And it carves a lasting and painful groove in my heart
And when I touch it, like a holy icon
I see the Way to Golgotha with my soul
And I say to Jesus: I love You, Lord
I know that Your true, holy Love, so much injured
Is so deeply painful for me, too.

 
20.02.2008 Before the Holy Mass, I was reflecting on the problem of people who excuse their iniquitous behavior so easily. They often say that they do it in the name of love for the other person, but I think they rather do it in the name of love for themselves. The point is that nowadays, it is so easy to arrange for a divorce, to justify certain sexual behavior through gossiping, fortune telling etc. Tolerance is the word which becomes a slogan, but is it well comprehended and practiced? I here are so many other behaviors around us are morally estimated tolerated. We react as if the idea of sin is inconsequent. We observe it on television or the press. We hear the words: I have a right to be happy hence four marriages; it’s my right to have an abortion, a right to be a homosexual because I feel or was born that way. Many excuses are given in the name of love. I think that the contemporary world has a big problem with morality and relativism. It looks as if Satan disguises in the clothes of an angel and speak sweetly to people, justifying their morally listed activities.
Our task (difficult lately) is to seek God’s vision and distinguish between the “original” God’s “brand” of the angel’s clothes, and “the pluck” that Satan puts on.

Strange procession

Maybe it was in the waking
More so, like in an awesome daydream
I saw a procession with monstrance
And people like colorful butterflies
The priest, dressed in elaborate canonical regalia
Angels were carrying a canopy
I heard singing in sonorous high and clear tones
And the light was so clear and brilliant

When the cordage marched past
Disguised as butterflies, like the saints
I saw another somber parade
With suffering people, stooping in pain
Some propped up on crutches, covered with festering sores
Several affected ones were borne on backs and stretchers
My heart became heavy for them
But there was the figure of Jesus
Who was accompanying them, helping those in dire need
With a reassuring smile so sweet and gracious
I called to my soul: wake up my body and spirit
Like an alarm-clock, with the annoying noise
Let me spring up and not be late
For this procession with Jesus.
 

Sorrow

I laid a handful of sorrow on the sand
The wind strewed it off- shore
The sea-waves brought it back ashore
It was dazzling with a piece of amber in the sun
It hurt my heart with pain …

I laid sorrow in front of man
Man got scared and fretful
With the eyes of my sorrow
He looked for a remedy in a hurry
But couldn’t find any panacea

I laid sorrow on the Rosary
And I spoke with Joyous Mystery
Sorrow exuded like smoke from the incense
It struggled to survive 
But the Rosary cross caught it and absorbed

Oh, sorrow, you visit our hearts with impunity
And cast shadow on our souls
You are not invincible 
There are Great Heavenly Mysteries  
And you don’t run away but kneel before them.

 
Faces

I am walking along the street
And there are faces all around
I can’t see their age
But only their hopes and thoughts
Deeply hidden at the bottom of their eyes
All the faces think they look special
Some, more beautiful, others ugly
But for a passerby walking down the street
They are just in transition, in oblivion
About their individuality
The faces move alone or in pairs
These, alone look at others, those in pairs focus on their things
When I pass by the faces on the street
I feel oppressed with a thought
How long must I learn to love 
Their eyes, thoughts and souls
So that I could proudly say to You
With my hand on my heart:
Jesus, I love You.

 
03.03.2008. I woke up in the morning and looked at the picture of Merciful Jesus and it occurred to me that man was created to use his senses and to comprehend the physical aspects of the world. He perceives with his eyes, he hears …
This “sensitivity” of our perception may lead to some routine or even to dispersion (like during The Holy Mass). If we are not touched with the strong grace of faith (seeing with the soul and the heart), then we won’t break beyond our “physicality”. We will only see the material facet of the ceremony (the layout of the altar, the look of a priest etc.). While participating in The Holy Mass or divine service, we should pray for spiritual contact with God, so that we could break this physical perception and see with “the eye of the soul”. We honor God while kneeling, looking and listening to the words of The Gospel. The spiritual aspect of mankind includes this; we were created this way. But we need our heart to be engaged positively so that listening and looking weren’t at the level of “physicality”. It’s obvious that God doesn’t want to “force” man to love Him - He provided us with free will, indeed. Still, I think that when God touches man with the grace of experiencing His Love in The Holy Mass even once, then we “cast away” our sensuality of perception, our dispersion, and our routine of different modes and we become strongly open to the spiritual interventions. Then every Mass will become a unique personal encounter, full of love and our eyes and ears will “open up for ‘the World’ which will penetrate our spirit strongly and will not “disappear” after leaving the church and going back to daily life of distractions and temptations.

 
Eternity

If there were an oak tree in this world
Powerful, with strong roots
I would hide beneath it
If there were a durable house in this world
With foundation solid as a rock
I would dwell in it

But the world gives birth
To oak trees that hurricanes uproot
Houses that decay
Truths that wither
And people like errant knights
Wander searching for eternal Truth
For eternal house, eternal oak tree
They pass by the Cross where eternity …
Is reaching out its hands to man.

Like a tree

I stumble over my life
Like a tree, pulled out during a storm
The time and tide of history carry it on
Likewise the history of my nation and me
During the windless silence and the gentle rain
I try to get rooted anew
I often come across the fallow, the desert sand
And upraise the fallen branches to the sun  
Begging for survival 
I, the human being, like this tree
Look for The One Who ordered my existence

There is a cross stuck in the ground, in a treeless field
The trees, uprooted by wind-storm
Entwined it like a royal diadem
Shrouding it like at the defense wall
They abide, saturating its roots and make them blossom
And surround the cross with a new forest  
They bear a never drying fountain that satiates
They cast a shadow against the scorching sun
And a sound sleep at night

I arrange my life
Beside the life that blossoms beneath the cross
I listen to beautiful conversations 
Between The Woman and The Master of The Cross
And the roots of my life feed fervently 
They grow down stronger  
When the hostile hurricane blows
Then I just bow down to earth and last
In the secure arms of The Master of The Cross.

 

14.03.2008. By eliminating faith in God as the source of humanity, the world focuses on the materiality of man (face value of good looks, youth, fullness of goods). When I observe contemporary literature, art, I can see complexes of contemporary people that are contained therein and lack of ambitious ideas. When man is torn away from God, he forgets what is most important in him, the beauty of his soul. No wonder, the most beautiful works were created as a result of this anxiety inside man who knows that we are not only just the body, but its essence. The awareness of having a soul (that is often laughed at), makes man turn to God - The Most High Love.

 How can we account for acts of mercy, patriotism and sacrificing life - unless there is a value that is beyond our material body? If we didn’t have this awareness, resulting from our faith in God and in the soul given us by Him, then nobody would perform the acts which may surpass our ostentations evaluation of our own life. Life is primarily the unique object, not only because of the body but also, because of its essence, the soul - the jewel in the crown received at birth. It is the soul that demands that we surpass our physicality, that weperform difficult tasks in spite of trials and fears. Our soul bears life’s burdens more although this fact is often thrown undermined. At difficult or challenging
moments in our life, it is the soul that we draw our strength from (and not from the submissive body). She stimulates us of our bond with God Who helps, purifies and soothes anxiety. The great sin of the contemporary world is to deprive man of his faith in the immortal soul. There will be new generations, interested only in ‘using” the world for purposes of their material body. These people won’t be happy because they won’t have the awareness of their unique entity on this earth; and culture, arts, literature will be limited to show only human emotions, often in a form of shouting.

Isn’t this shouting, at the same time, the calling: please give our souls back give back the values that make us realize the sense of our humanity, the sensibility of our life.

Longing

Longing is like the man
Who stands at the gate of Hope
Without a key …
It is like a beautiful landscape in a dream
We cannot embellish it with multi colour paints
Longing is like a ballad that we hear in our heart
But cannot be written with musical notes
It is like wandering through a dense forest
Following the light over the trees
Longing is like grace
It is like a pilgrim
Throughout his life and leads to the Cross
There they meet 
Human longing and Love
Heaven and Earth
Man uncovers beneath the cross
The key for the gate of Hope
The paints for making a beautiful picture
The notes of a wonderful song
The words for a prayer
The light in the forest of lost ways
Under the cross
God fills human longing
With blissful Fatherly Love.

 

 
28.03.2008. Before the Feast of Mercy. At the beginning of The Mass, I complained to Jesus that I don’t experience this common human euphoria of Easter. I thought that I was not worthy of this intrinsic experience. Then, in my heart, I saw a vision of a cross with dying Jesus and there was an earthquake. Moving stones crumbled into small pieces. Then I heard in my heart: these stones are the symbol of My Passion. I sacrificed their pebbles for the compassionate soul. they carry them inside and they remind them of
My Passion. These sharp crumbs hurt the life of these souls and don’t allow them to forget about Me, especially when in doubt, evil tries to touch them, when they lose strength
The joy of Resurrection is not only a form of joy of celebrating the Feast in the usual way: processions, blessings of food, family meetings. The true spiritual joy is also a reminder for whom Jesus resurrected. Such joy evokes deep reflection, often laconic, concerning the responsibility for our own life - hence it often has a serious dimension and implication.
There was also a strange coincidence, because that day, after my meditations, the priest read a verse of
The Gospel about a stone that was cast away and it became the corner-stone. Later at night, a poem about the Divine Mercy “came” to me.

The Arms of Mercy

Divine Mercy has the eyes of Jesus
Dying away of Love
Divine Mercy waits like a pilgrim in a desert
Searching for an oasis of human soul
Divine Mercy is patient and waiting
It doesn’t speed up the steps of the doubtful
Divine Mercy has the hands and blood of Jesus who is blessing
Even those who don’t see Him 
Divine Mercy waits at the door of a temple
Full of grace, like Easter thanksgiving baskets
Divine Mercy forgives and forgets
It is like a bird that lowers its flight
And doesn’t choose the fields full of grains
Divine Mercy has the eyes of Jesus
It is not afraid of pain, hunger, affliction
It even drinks a cup of bitterness
Divine Mercy waits in the rain, storm or flood
In the day or at night
It is like The Merciful Father who opens His arms
To welcome souls of prodigal sons.

29.03.2008. This is the night when I couldn’t fall asleep I had an impression that it was a strange time for a vigil. In the Friday part of the novena, Jesus recommends me to pray for souls in Purgatory.
I heard a strange voice that explains that death is a transition from one life to another. It is like “gliding” through a narrow duct toward the light. I would define it as a peculiar “second” birth. The body is left over, and our souls must head on, for further pilgrimage trip toward the next world. This transition is not painful (like a snake shedding its skin) provided our soul has love in us and is ready to change the world for good! In our profane world, we avoid talking about death, as if it didn’t exist and shouldn’t concern us. We associate death  as a tragedy but it concerns us all and is attached to us like an umbilical cord. The experience that I had that night, was very interesting - death as a phase soliciting further pilgrimage

When God Touches

There is such despair and crying thoughts
No human word will put them out 
We stand defenseless, face to face, in tragedy
We ask: why?  
But the faces and the eyes around stay shut
And the mouth - silent
We menace with our clenched fists
Sometimes we drop them like’ withered flowers

There is such despair and crying thoughts
For which there is neither medicine nor herbs
But there is Somebody who will recognize
The root of human despair
And will plunge His merciful hands into the heart
When you call Him with prayer, bending your knees
He will touch your despair, hug you, and warm you
Although it may not disappear, like a burnt-out candle 
But when God touches it
It will become - the blessed pain.

 

It’s hard for a contemporary man to live nowadays because good is made ugly and evil is disguised in colorful vendor. People are brain-washed and they only believe in what they see. What is needed, especially now, is a lot of heart, mind, and intellect in order to distinguish between good and evil.

A Fairy Tale of Love

A long time ago, while wandering over the earth
The angel lost a stone, unusual and priceless
Man found it, and sang a beautiful song
He opened his heart for love to flow out
And this love was rich and abundant
People scooped it with intensity
And nobody was starved of love on earth
It nourished handsomely those desiring affection

This Paradise, full of love, should have lasted till the end of time
But, alas, a certain man from beyond the seas appeared
He stole the angel’s stone and tried to sell it
The stock of generous love was exhausted

People, troubled with it, started the pursuit
Looking for the thief of the priceless love
Jewelers, swindlers deluded them with gold  
Telling lies that its glow is a crumb from the Angel’s stone

There was great confusion among the people
Everyone wanted to buy and possess something of his own
Secured vaults were built for their new treasures
They were guarded jealously, and nobody could steal them

But there is a priceless stone, somewhere in the world
Legends have it that it gives away love
And people still dream they will find Love on earth someday
Love that will never be imprisoned by any safe-code.

 
16.04.2008. Before the Holy Mass, I was thinking about my free will and how it works. I would like my free will to be accorded me God’s will. In my imagination, I saw a window through which I was looking at the figure of Lord Jesus. I thought: I want to open this window so that it doesn’t separate me from Jesus. Then I heard a quiet answer, a little facetious, but giving much to think about: but windows are unlocked from the inside and you are the one in the position to open this window.
Then I understood that it was the answer to my question concerning free will therein. I understood that the opening of the window, in other words, giving my free will to God, is  my great trust to God, devoting myself to God, without any fear. Then I am not protected by any “window-pane” of my doubts and fears and I consciously and totally succumb to the work of God’s will. It is about my free will to open the window from inside, by myself and nobody else.

Letter for the Angels

Please protect me, my angels
With your wings like a shield
And give me extra strength, Heavenly Guardians
So that I protect the faith of my ancestors
A strange war is being waged today
For the bedrock of faith and love
There are so many false prophets today
Who paint the icons of hope with latent zeal
These icons lure with rainbow color
Often as beautiful and praiseworthy
Many people get poorer vision  
They mix up … slavery with freedom

 There is no cross with Christ
In the icons of new prophets
The cross shines like a medal on their necks
And is just a colorful adornment 
The false prophets write
A new Bible for the blind people
Where love has a young face
Truth is shyly hidden 
Hope is in the shape of money  
And faith is a dead relict

Protect me, my angels
From the world of modern icons
Write down with a chisel of a sculptor
The humility and wisdom of the saints
And I ask you for one more thing yet
In the postscript of my letter
Please support me in my human hope
That truth will conquer the false prophets.

 
Meditation over passing time

This is the time when thoughts skip to the past
Like crabs, wandering backward
To the dreams from childhood
About colorful butterflies of hope
We hold out our hands, through the curtains of memory
We pass by successive mirrors of the years
Until we reach the child with a mirror
So small
That there isn’t any reflection of the world yet
Only the curious eyes asking, who am I?’

In meditation, years are like minutes
Time is not akin to monotonous hacking of a woodpecker
We recall the moments of gladness and remorse
The smiles, the warm hands, the good words
The warmth of the sun, the glee of the breeze, fragrances
And the cross of suffering that suddenly falls on us
Without warning, or a secret sign
How short life seems to be 
When it only includes vital moments …

In the rolled-up ribbon of daily life
Of the years written into birth certificates
Among the ritual of gestures and common actions
Of interest, boredom, expectations
There are exquisite moments worth musing upon
And whatever you are, my life
The colorful butterflies from my childhood dreams
Shell never discolor …
Prayer and hope resurrects them again
And then they let them free
So that they returned in the holy, human meditation.

 
19.04.2008. At today’s Mass, there were young people who were getting ready for The Holy Confirmation Ceremony and some children waiting to be baptized. I offered this Mass for their intention. I did it with some consternation thinking that maybe it would be better to offer this Mass for my own family instead. Then I heard in my heart: offering a Mass for the people who will never repay you because they are not aware of your clement intention, is a more valuable venture than an offering for close relatives.

Communion

When you come to me in the communion, Jesus
I should hear singing of angelic choirs
And the trumpets sounding loud
But I hear not …

A quiet song resounds in the church
You hear the frantic steps of the faithful
In summer, birds chirp outside the window
And the tuneful voice of the priest: This is The Body of Christ

The taste of unleavened bread in my mouth is so common
Like the one that I consume every day
But indeed, the unearthly miracle occurred
Jesus became the Guest in me

I get silent and look for great calm
So that You, Lord, speak to me
I plunge myself into contemplation
And reach for Your Love, Jesus

I look for Your eyes, Your gaze, full of love
There I desire to read the only Truth
How beautiful and Heavenly moment this is
When God ... touches man

And I realize that at this happy moment
When Jesus sanctifies my soul indeed
The angels’ choirs get silent, and musicians’ trumpets pause
This is the blessed time of great, holy silence.

 
04.05.2008. A few days ago, I and my husband embanked on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje; I felt greatly spirited about this pilgrimage. Prayer and the Rosary flowed out of the pilgrim’s mouths abundantly, not to mention the smiles and serenity. The people talked about many graces that they experienced. I dedicated my pilgrimage to the intentions of Holy Mary. I didn’t demand anything, and I spent these ten days as if I was being flitted to Heaven. I witnessed the revelation of Mary with one of the seers.
I would like to share some impressions. During the Holy Mass in St. Jacob’s church I experienced “seeing” The Holy Mother. She had Her forehead covered with white cloth, from Her head She also wore a long, blue veil cast too. This apparel reminded me somewhat of a convent robe. I thought it might be a livid imagination. We were standing in a big crowd, waiting for Miriam (the seer who has encounters with Mary on 2nd of every month). It was humid and uncomfortable to stand in this crowd another hour ahead. Suddenly, beyond the building, I saw the figure of The Holy Mother, as if it were on a cinema screen. The figure was similar to the one I saw in the church. She was gliding as
if She was walking in the cloud and I thought that it was another play of imagination. But
at the same moment, Miriam’s face had an ethereal look as the encounter with Mary began. The written message was given afterwards.
Many people raise objections to the visionaries because revelations have lasted for so long (27 years so far) and Mary, in her messages, still admonishes and asks for prayers. Why so long? I think that it is a great act of devotion and patience of Heaven toward people. The Holy Mother “comes” to Medjugorje, to the family, to people. She teaches Her children patiently (as it is in a typical, ordinary family). Sometimes these teachings must go on for many years. The devotion of The Holy Mother is a great grace for the world. Pilgrims appreciate this grace. There are millions of faithful who come to Medjugorje. This is the time to convert. And there are many conversions in Medjugorje. Nobody knows how many more years will pass for Medjugorje to be blessed with apparitions and revelations. Pilgrims flow in, like to the sanctuary where Heaven touched the Earth. I thought (it’s my personal opinion) that Mary may appear there during the next three years, or probable six. Just like Jesus who stayed with the family for 30 years, or all His life, which means 33 years. It is said these could be the last apparitions of The Holy Mother in the world. Maybe this is why She has been speaking through Her messages for so long and She has been waiting that long. She waits for the conversion of her children, like every adoring mother. She waits with love; She appears so that many could believe in the Truth.
After returning from Medjugorje, I put a medallion of the Holy Spirit bought in Medjugorje. At dawn, I was attacked by what seemed like a legion of demons the whole troop was jumping all over my body. I felt utter physical pain. I tried to shout for help! — But was silenced. I was too scared to wake up the others. Everything was quiet for a while and then came another attack. I remembered a few years back when I started my writing activity, I was being seriously strangled. But on this night, I knew that I was being protected from this malevolent attack of evil because I had a medallion around my neck. And indeed, every part of my body was ruthlessly attacked - except for the neck!

Medjugorje

I climb Apparition Mountain Along the rocky trail
I touch the rocks with my hands
At the Stations of the Cross on Krizevac
I defend myself from falling down
In this pilgrimage journey
I discover the mysteries of this amazing place
It is not my bare strength that lifts me up
It is neither my human faith
Every stone is like a bead of the Rosary
I place my steady feet on it 
Mary raises me higher
Towards the glory of God
The stones are covered with benevolent prayers
In different languages 
Slippery from  pilgrims’ feet
They glimmer with hope abundant  
The pilgrims here are ageless and are free from disease
On this hard way
Everyone is awarded with excess baggage
Of Mother Mary’s Love
The Rosary in the hand, the feet are firm on the stones
The head is Heaven - bound
How easy the trail could be, even over the rocks
With God’s love draped around the shoulders
Thank You, Holy Mary, for Medjugorje
Thanks for our love for Jesus
Which is engraved in my heart.

15.05.2008. Before the Mass, I was thinking about evangelization and how difficult it could be. And religious persons are often critical of so-called unbelievers. Then I saw in my apparition, a horse-drawn cart and a plane. What does this mean? Somebody (maybe it was my Guardian Angel) explained these symbols to me. There are people who use horse- drawn carts throughout all their lives, hence they must experience a lot, see a lot  - in other words, they must learn a lot on their way of pilgrimage through their lives. They come across many places, people, and they acquiesce to them. For them, the way to God is slow, long and just like a journey in a horse-drawn vehicle. It doesn’t mean that it is bad. Maybe this method of “traveling” was chosen for them by God? For others, God chose a plane. A moment of enlightenment or being destined for some higher purpose and then, these people reach faith much faster (an airplane). I think that both ways are valuable for God. Therefore, conversion to one’s faith in God, is an unusually difficult and delicate task. It is a priestly hardship to recognize human soul and her destiny, on her way to God.
On the same day, during The Holy Mass, I saw a woman who behaved a little strangely, with nervous signs, gestures and words (which is defined by some as devote like), I hear in my heart: Jesus speaks to man. There are hearts that are hurt, full of unhealed wounds. The pure heart is reconciled with destiny and life; the voice of Jesus is always reflected with clear echo and a humble understanding of His words prevails. In the hearts of the hurt people, the echo of his words  “gets distorted”. The wounds of the heart control some words. The echo of His words doesn’t reflect His teaching, on the whole. Hence we sometimes observe strange, irrational behaviors. Heartaches, afflictions need purifying in many communions so that Jesus could heal unanimously. Then His words will reach the human heart with a clear, resonant echo.

 
I am not a statue

 
I am not a beautiful statue of alabaster
Nor am I an admirable figure of marble
I don’t evoke fascination in untutored eyes
Of the great sculptors of this world
My words won’t be quoted by my descendants
I am human and so vulnerable
My body is dressed in diseases and pains
But it is you and me
That Mary is holding out Her eager hands to
It is our love that She has long been waiting for
It is our souls that She desires to bless
What can I give You in return, Oh, Mary
For Your love for the people of earth?
My folded hands, the Rosary with prayer
Some tiny tears, let them warm Your hands
A few sighs, pilgrimages to sanctified places
Hardship of my daily life, promises of self-improvements
Pious thoughts and the Holy Masses
And my daily regrets for my heart full of pride
I am not a beautiful statue of alabaster
Nor am I a figure of durable marble
But I can bow at Your feet, Mother
And give away my life to Your intentions
When I touch Your feet with my forehead, Oh, Mother
And my face feels Your warmth
I, man, made of such a frail body
May hear a soothing song, the angel will sing it
About the great love of God, for people on earth.

 

An old man’s answer

I wander along the way, in a crowd
Occasionally somebody falls down
Then his face is covered
With the dust from under the feet of others
The crowd is angry and in a hurry
As if they were sure of destination
And their purpose of going
I try to single myself out of the crowd
They drag me in and shout insulting words
And yell - don’t make chaos, don’t stop
We want to reach the destination
Our time is precious 
I ask – where is the destination?
Nobody answered … silence sneered at me
My heart is menaced
It stops beating to the rhythm of the rushing crowd
And a strange refrain of a gentle tune greets me
It sounds to me like a consoling psalm:
Persevere and join with those
Who broke away from the crowd
I just wiped my eyes on the roadside
Looking at my companions with a smile
When I saw the angry crowd, rushing again
Did they turn back from their fixed pursuit?
No - said an old man, sitting near me
Sometimes … the so-called destination, is just an escape.

17.05.2008. I devoted today’s Mass to my son - on his birthday. There was a group of blind children in front of me. One of them, a boy, was having his first communion. It’s strange but I was deeply moved by this fact and I also recommended these children to God during this Mass, next, I recommended the children who were waiting to be baptized. Then I said: Jesus (thinking in a very human way), aren’t there too many people and matters that I have recommend to You?

And I heard in my heart: ‘during every Holy Mass, I bleed out my blood, and many people don’t recommend anybody, neither offering nor intentions. How much of My blood flows into The Cup in vain, and this blood could be a blessing.’ There are never too many people or matters for recommendation during The Holy Mass!

 
You are mine …

There is such a feeling
Which catches man like a secret killer
And breaks the backbone of faith
And flourishing love
Smoldering hope
It presses man down to earth
Covering him with the sandstorm of hopelessness
It plunges your friends’ hands into the fog
It changes the words of love into a stone of silence
It hurts with the tones of a song of accusation
It hovers over man, crouched in pain
Like a triumphant vulture
Fear looms …

You got this fear from a menacing vulture
That whispered false hope into your ears
So that you may believe that …
Jesus didn’t resurrect
And He is not with you now … 
So that you give up faith, hope and love
But Jesus stands firm beside you
At times of great humiliation, pain, fear
He rises from His own fall
And looks for you
He wraps your fear around His cross
And His eyes sincerely say:
You are mine, man, not the vulture’s.

 
Adoration

I want to worship Your Name, Lord
And put my life into Your hands
I want to have faith that my days are like gifts
These hard ones and these, full of grace

I want to worship Your Name, Lord
And have Your Eyes before mine
And always remember about Love that You feed people with
And pick up every crumb of it, like bread, from the ground

I want to hear Your breath near mine
And hold out my hands to You every day
And cry like a baby toward the clouds in the sky
Let it be Your will, not mine, that makes me healthy

I want to trust in Your Mercy fervently
When despair, so human, overwhelms mercilessly
I want to touch the cross of Your Son, God
And rise, like Him, from each fall

I want to worship Your name, Lord
And plead for patience for those who disbelieve
So that when they say: I trust in You, Lord
The grace of light will conquer the darkness hostile

I pay homage to You, The Father of all mankind
And put this letter-prayer into my folded hands
So that You may hand me the cross, instead of an earthly rose
And give me the strength to testify to these words of love.

29.05.2008. When The Most Holy Sacrament was put out, I saw a broken human heart. And I heard, ‘this is the injured heart that needs transfusion of My Blood - My Love.’

 
Sunday morning

What a wonderful moment I experience
A feeling so sublime, just a twinkling
As if my soul desired
To see with the eyes of the saints
I experienced the joy of thanksgiving to God

The delicate crust of my heart got perforated
The feeling of great gratitude was oozing out
The burning tracks of my tears, on my face
My heart, body and soul got melted like wax
And my spirit was flooded by lava of all-powerful Love

This feeling suddenly flowed down in the morning
Before prayer, before my daily monotony
As if waiting for my awakening
For my sleep-purified heart
For my soul, awaiting the Lord on Sunday morning

My God, I pray with gratitude and adoration
For my faith in Your Love
For the hope of meeting You 
For the touch of love that went through my spirit
For the grace of thanksgiving that I experienced.

 
Holiday and daily love

Holiday love is dressed solemnly
Holiday love is dressed solemnly
It wears a wedding suit
If it still fits
Or a dress from a good shop
It gets out of a shiny car at the church
A golden medallion is on the neck, a ring on the finger
Holiday love sings songs
It greets the neighbors after The Mass
It knows what is in its heart
Holiday love has its secrets
Jesus knows them or maybe a priest in the confessional
Daily love always wants something
It runs in the rain, snow and even in illness
Sometimes it has old shoes and an old-fashioned coat
But when it kneels in front of the altar
It feels like in a palace

Daily love doesn’t shine
It is often dressed in old age and a stick
Only the eyes and the heart are still curious
Of the words of Jesus and of seeing The Holy Host
Daily love is insatiable
It gets inflamed every morning
Holiday love is beautiful, dressed in tradition
Dressed in the duty of Sunday Mass
Whenever you pass by Jesus
Then you must remember that His Home waits for you
Dressed in holiday love … and in daily love, too.

When an angel falls from Heaven

I am like a man shrouded with grief
That flowed out of darkness, without invitation
And put dark glasses on me
I can see litter at the walls
The sky, full of storm clouds
Cracked pavements
A quarrel at the street corner
I carry light baggage with my sliding legs
But it weighs like a heavy suitcase
A moment of inattention
And I stumble over a wheel-chair
A smiling, young woman
Is turning the wheels with effort
Sorry – she says …
I ran into you
And her smile, so bright, sunny, joyous
Of a crippled, good angel …
My dark glasses fell off
Storm clouds disappeared
And among the litter at the wall
I can see little flowers
And the grief that shrouded me
Like Hindu sari
Has disappeared …
I whispered – thank you, my good angel
You fell right from Heaven …

Common holiness

The angel told me to look for holy people
Not in the wise books
But among the living
How can I recognize - I asked the angel
The saints among the common people?
But the angel flew away, giving no advice
I sat on a bench, next to an elderly lady
We exchanged a few words about the weather
Then a line of thought flowed out, about a holy woman
And about the folks who benefitted from her act of courage

I remember the life of my Grandpa and Grandma
They had hard fate and daily hardship
Worn-out hands and morning singing
When they headed to the Mass along the country paths
I thought about missionaries, their evangelization
About young insurgents, how they died for the country
About the people who gave their lives for faith
About a lonely woman and her ill-fated child

How many inspiring stories of everyday people
We lose among the contemporary values
How many saints we ignore to create our own idols
I understood, my angel, why you flew away
And instructed me to look for holy people myself
Everyday holiness is so silent and humble
That life doesn’t notice it easily

Thank You, Lord, for these common saints
For goodness that blossomed on earth, beside me
It is like a slice of bread that feeds the hungry
With faith and hope
Toward another man
Because he was created, as an image of God.

 

Homeless heart

Authorities take care of the homeless
Scattered around in the burrows of the city
There are night’s rest places and soups for them
And social and charity enthusiasm
 
There is also homelessness with its own key
Clean, well cared for and drinking coffee
But only its sad heart cries
It’s homeless because it’s not loved
 
When it gets up early in the morning
It holds on to the dreams, its night friends
Those about the man who will give away
A room in his heart, even for a while
 
This room can be small
The homeless heart will fit into it
It didn’t use to live in a palace
What it needs is just another heart
 
Oh, homeless heart that is waiting
For the home without the key of indifference
Leave home and seek patiently
There are so many homeless hearts around
 
Homelessness will fall asleep in a night’s rest place
Dressed in rags and social care
Nothing but love will hug the homeless heart for the sleep
Even in a beautiful home.

Intentions

I offer my intentions, at The Holy Mass
And put them on Mary’s hands and the saint patrons
And wait impatiently, like a beggar
For the gift of Your blessing, Jesus

I believe that You take my every intention
That is put on the altar, in the basket of hope
Into Your hands and You decide according to God’s will
And give it back to my life, as the Rosary of pearls

Sometimes, like a helpless blind-man
I lose this Rosary, shining with the pearls of grace
When I use my own will to choose my way
Then Your Rosary is covered with fog there on

When I come back, tired, from this way afar
When the stones of my own will hurt me
I bring my soul, my heart to the altar
And ask - Lord Jesus, did You forget my requests?

Today I know, they had to blossom fully, like flowers
Strengthened with the power of Your Holy Offering 
You transformed them into the fruit of Your giving powers
And put it into my hands, as a sign of Your presence.

 
A few days later, I went to the recollections to Olsza, near Lodź. (Center of Love of Martha Robin). During Adoration in the Center’s chapel, I experienced a feeling of deep pain that is flowing from the cross of Christ and I heard this question, ‘How do you love Me, My daughter?’ I decided to meditate on this experience in a poem.

 
I have asked you thrice …

I kneel at the cross in humility
And my thoughts are silent
Even time stopped, tired
Like an old clock, enslaved with silence
The mouth repeats words of love
As if the heart dictated my mind
I love You, Lord, more than life itself
I adore You
How do you love Me? - I hear
A painful voice drills into my soul
A rebellious picture stood before my eyes
Of Peter who denied You three times
Fright seized me strongly
When You asked me again, with love
How do you love Me, My daughter?
Peter’s sorrow touched me like an arrow
And You, still looking from the cross
Asked this question for the third time
The pain from the cross clutches my heart
With scorching heat like lava from a volcano
It touched my heart with fire, I got petrified in Your pain
Understanding the question of Your eyes
If I am ready, like Simon, to carry the cross
In spite of the menace that the world projects
I will carry the cross with You, through time
And testify with my faith, with fidelity in pain
That Truth, that You died for, is alive, on the cross.

05.07.2008. I think that man should go through three stages in his love odyssey toward God, regardless of his age. He might be young but he has already gone through these three stages or he could be older but hadn’t achieved all three stages.
The first stage is when we constantly ask for something and want something.
The second stage is when we offer our thanksgiving for all that we have received good and bad.
The third stage is when we should take care of God - our Father: when we shouldn’t make Him sad with our sins, and anger but try to be involved in more and more religious actives and protect His name from the people who offend Him. Then we should show our courage by confessing our love for God, not only with words but first of all, with actions.
I asked myself a question: how can I meet with You, Lord? And then I saw a dimmed mirror. I understood that God wants to reflect His Countenance in the clear mirror of our soul. So man should pray a lot - eagerly, not mechanically.
In the “dimmed” mirror of our soul, the Countenance of God doesn’t project reflection. This dimmed Countenance is a sign of our sinfulness, our lack of meaningful prayer, our lack of participation in the Mass, our putting off confession “until later”?

A few days later, during meditation, I saw a man looking at himself in the mirror. He had scars on his body. These scars, I heard in my heart - are out sins. The wounds got healed (confession, absolution) but the scars remain in our memory, in our mirror-soul. How great it would be to look at ourselves without these ugly scars, but unfortunately, we are sinful beings. The memory of these “scars” is necessary for us, to remind us not to repeat our sins, and never to “get ugly” with more scars.

Timid love

How timid human love is
Like a moth, it wants to move toward light
It doesn’t want to wait in the shadow of humility
It wants to rejoice in the glare of light

Jesus’ love for the people pushed Him to the cross
He plunged in to the darkness of degradation
Defenseless for love for his oppressors
He whispered: forgive them, Lord; they don’t know what they do

How timid human love is
It shines with little twinkles and casts away the frock of humility
It wants to be dressed up, victorious …
It won’t hold its folded hands toward Heaven for long

God gathers the weak sparkles of this timid love
He joins it together with the wood of His Son’s cross
He supports the weakness of timid love
Like the little fires of the eternal lamp

Oh, how weak you are, human timid love
Pressed with the burden of life’s hardness
But the Holy Cross has blessed you
And Jesus, on the cross, has saved your weakness.

15.07.2008. In the church, just before the Holy Mass, I was greatly perturbed. I decided to dedicate this Mass for the intentions of the sinners in my family and close friends, for their conversion and for special grace for them. Then I saw a person that was scattering around crumbs of bread, smaller and bigger. A big piece of bun fell down in front of me and I heard in my heart that everybody receives graces, gifts (crumbs). They wait for us on our ways through life. But we often go past them and don’t notice them. A person you just met, or prayer could be of such grace. But we don’t notice their value or appreciate it because we are in pursuit of our own material goals.

My paths

You sent me on a pilgrimage, Lord
On a painstaking way through my life
So many paths that I had to follow
And no sea parted for me to cross over
I sank into the quicksand of delays
Sometimes breathless, with no shout
I held on to the edges of pain  
So that I could get to the surface again

The cross always accompanied me on my way
The little one, on my neck, remained with me
To You I sent my grieves and requests in earnest
Like a child who lost his hope
A path was leading me to You
Through brambles and maze of cornfield
I got to know the nights of doubt
I got to know the power of Mercy

And the day has come, in a twinkling of light
And the sea separated
I saw a beautiful path among the waves of life
It blossomed with gratitude, like abundant flowers
My childish grudges and requests have disappeared
The thanksgiving prayer filled my heart
For the injured arms and legs of Jesus 
For love flowing from the cross …

Looking back, I saw my pilgrim’s paths  
Thosefull of requests and human gratitude 
But those paths were not enough for my soul
She was fighting for something and shouting …
What do you want, my soul? - I asked passionately
I heard a voice from somewhere, so tender and sweet
Defend me and protect from the whole world!
Don’t let people hurt me with their actions and words.

 

16.07.2008. There is such an ideology or subject as evangelic science which we accept as necessary and believe in. But for the “word - knowledge” to be understood deeply, we must search our hearts, find a fixed place in our hearts and be resolute. There must occur some  enlightenment with the help of The Holy Spirit, so that the word could come alive.

I experienced such enlightenment when the word in which I believed pervaded my heart deeply, becoming alive and was not only the knowledge and faith, but a believed guest with worthy residence in my heart; with the awareness of Truth that nobody and nothing could ever pilfer from me or make me doubt.
After the evening prayer, I fell asleep unwittingly, but it felt like a “daydream”. I heard a voice lecturing me.

The Holy Communion is The Body of Christ. In order to “give Himself” to mankind, Christ becomes a substantiated man - God. He appears in the person of Christ - man, who suffers and who gives Himself with His body and blood - not as a symbol, but as the living body that He assumed while living on earth. At every Mass, He participates in The Transformation and He touches us as the living man - God. He transfers Himself, man - God (with the body and blood), to the material man (with the body and blood).

If our soul and heart don’t experience this, deep revelation which it is the Truth, then we might receive the communion more as a spiritual symbol than the body of Jesus, even if we had profound knowledge of this premise.
Our mouth (material) and our human structure (material), receive material, authentic gift.

The Great Spirit of Love, The Holy Spirit, constantly feeds man with the living body of Christ, “lowers Himself” somehow, to our material level. It enriches us with the Divinity of the Gift of the blood and body of Christ.

Christ became man on earth; He suffered and lived like we do. He confirms it at every Mass by coming to the altar. Every Catholic knows this Truth, he can talk about it, teach, but does he really relive every Mass anew, as a beautiful encounter? Does his heart recognize his Lord in the Holy Host? Does his heart beat more strongly when the priest approaches him? Does he adore God in his own body? Don’t daily worries and thoughts separate this beautiful act of unity of man with man - God?

How necessary and important it is to pray and ask the Holy Spirit, before the communion, to enlighten our minds, hearts, that just here, at this Mass - Jesus is looking at us, with the eyes like ours, with the body that suffers like our bodies and gives Himself to us, out of love, in order to enrich us with His Love, and transform our material entity into the spiritual one, as a Divine treasure.

After that evening revelation and teaching (maybe it was an angel), The Holy Mass becomes a miracle in my heart, a joyous encounter, inner peace. It becomes the awareness that I can look up to Jesus with my soul that I may see what is invisible with my eyes; can feel with the heart that beats more strongly during this encounter which rushes to God, although it is only the heart of man that gives life on earth - and the mind which doesn’t “see” the material shapes only, but also experiences the shape of the world of God deeply.

Revelation

I longed for beauty
That enriches the eyes, the heart, and the soul
As one mysterious revelation
I looked for it in the landscapes of nature
In pictures and music of masters of arts beauty
They made the eyes happy  
The heart was beating stronger
The soul was strangely silent …
I looked for beauty in the wisdom of philosophers
In the beautiful stanzas of poetry
My heart was trembling, the eyes were crying
But the soul was still seriously silent …
I looked for beauty in people  
And I found it in their hearts  
In their helping gestures, friendship, love offering
You see, my soul, I said
How beautiful man’s nature is
But she was standing by, at ease …
I locked the longing for revelation 
In the treasury of dreams  
Like a novel about an unfinished life …i

 

But it came to me unexpectedly
In a modest church, without any masters’ icons
Or golden chandeliers, splendid organs  
An elderly priest was raising The Holy Host, delicately
Like the beauty of the whole world
And The Host’s gleam complementing the brightness of the sun
And Its rays, like the touch of Love 
Settled on the heads of the faithful
The silence of this moment was singing angelic hymns
And my speechless, awaiting soul
Has spoken at last …
Here is your longing.

 

Adoration after communion

I close my eyes
Against the light of the outside world
I taste the drop of Jesus blood
In the white wafer of the Eucharist
That becomes a guest in my mouth
And brings salvation 
Sometimes I feel a salty tear
Sometimes the sweetness of love
Spill around in my soul with a mystery
My human love and human tears
Are mixed together 
With His suffering, His presence
They feed the starving soul  
With the pain of human distractions
At this beautiful moment of communion
Of God with man
Words fall asleep, like resting birds
On holy pictures
Sweet silence wreathes a nest
For a drop of love 
The humming of wings can be heard
Of the hard-working angels
Who draw aside the curtains of providence toward the world
From which God holds out His hand to gratify mankind
Oh, Jesus, imprisoned in my mouth
Please, fill my heart and soul with Your righteousness
And grant the gift of Your Love upon me.

 
19.07.2008. Gietrzwald (Polish Sanctuary where Holy Mary appeared). During Adoration of The Most Holy Sacrament, I honor The Holy Mother.

You are Mother to me I say - and then I saw the picture of a scene that took place many years ago. I stood in front of the window of a house where I was born; I was just a few years old. My mother used to hand me a mug of warm milk through the window. I loved this habit and I drank milk like wonderful nectar. One day, milk wasn’t good enough, it was a little bitter. Since then I didn’t feel like drinking milk. Suddenly I heard in my heart; this milk is good and warm, it is the food that I give people. My graces that are appreciated by them, feed human hearts with love. When you are mature in life, this milk that was food for you, is being “poisoned” by the world with bitterness which means sins that you  tolerate and also your lack of childlike trust in you. The wonderful taste of the food of My grace is polluted. I, like your mother shall continue to feed with milk – the food as sweet as honey. Come to Me and you will regain its taste, the taste of My graces that you can feel like trusty children, like you when you enjoyed the taste.

The next day, at dawn, after coming back from Gietrzwald, I felt as if I was daydreaming. I heard a strange lecture and had a vision of a ladder.
I heard in my heart, ‘There is God’s Love up there. I asked, how do I recognize it and reach it’?
I heard an answer: Over the rungs of the ladder, which denote the degrees of love toward your fellow man. Every rung is like a virtue toward your fellow man. You share sympathy, attention, tolerance, forgiveness, charily and love.
Then I saw many other ladders, some had rungs only at the base and  higher up - there was empty space. ‘This is what your love is like - only for those who love you or relatives.’ Continued the voice.
In order to get higher, a lot of effort must be made, more of rungs have to be climbed up, with difficulty, so that you will continue to get higher, to find God’s Love. You will not get to know it unless you fill your ladder with the rungs of your human love toward other people.
Sometimes even when we get higher, the bottom of our ladder lacks the rungs. These are the left-over grudges that we failed to discard; but an empty space remains thereby dislodging solid or realistic rungs that should complete the ladder. We must be on the alert all the time, so that our ladders remain complete and not dislodged.
In order to know God’s Love, we must keep climbing up all the days of our lives, painstakingly - often looking down. We cannot get the knowledge about God’s Love through singular gift. It is hard work in our whole life - it is constant “building” of the rungs in our ladders, the rungs of love toward our fellow human being.

Human humility

 

I kneel in front of Your Holy picture
I kneel with humility, Holy Mother
And I hear a voice, as if the picture asked
What is your humility like?
What are its arms like?
How much pain is it ready to hug?
How many injuries can it hold?
What is human humility like?
The knees that are bent in prayer
Hurt so fast
The words of prayer fly away
The time of man’s humility is so short
It passes, waiting for a reward
And then
The legs are straightened up, the head is raised
The words get rebellious
The arms are closed for the pain of another man
What is your humility like?
The bell of Annunciation rings
With a loud question
It reminds
Of Your “fiat”, Mary
Of Your accord to trust God
Of Your waiting arms
That are widely open for everyone
Even for those
Who hardly kneel
In front of Your Holy picture
In front of Your Holy humility.

Human angels

The angels from my childhood
Hovered in the shiny circles
Like beautiful, unearthly creatures
And their bare-footed legs didn’t touch the ground

I grew out of my childhood, like out of my flowery dress
And I brought my angels down to earth
They go now, dressed in blouses, overcoats, frocks
They pass me running down the street

I hear their footsteps in the church
They drag their legs and knock with their sticks
And sit in the pews at the morning Mass
They smile at the faces they know

My angels, brought down to earth
Do their shopping, count their small money and are tired
They help the ill with a good word and tea
They laugh and cry when moved

In my angels, there is a great heart that beats
And is always ready to pour love
Over those who doubted it
Even with a good gesture or with a compassionate look

They wear shoes that aren’t often very comfortable
And they can’t soar over the earth
They stumble over curved pavements, over hard life
They come in a hurry when we call them for help

Thank You, Lord, for the eyes that see
The angels disguised as people
For me, they are like the barefooted, beautiful angels
From my childhood.

04.08.2008. Feast of the vicars’ patron, St. John Vianney, the vicar of Ares.

 To my vicar

God has given You two hearts
He wouldn’t pour too much courage in one
He blessed you with the priestly call;
And sent you to this world with a fatherly kiss

He didn’t provide You a promise of easy life
He had His own plans concerning You
An angel threw The Holy Bible unto Your cradle
The Holy Mother took over your fate, instead of Yours

Your faith blossomed with mustard seeds
It moved mountains, carving church walls in them
They were born out of Your stubborn strength
Out of Your love, longing and … hope

Although the secrets of your soul remain a mystery
You saw homeless Jesus on Your way
He asked you for a house - a church, even a modest one
So that He could put His heavy cross against its wall

You are human and Your strength gets frail
One of your hearts got weaker from hard work
You never had enough time to tender to it
Even when it asked you for a little respite

Albeit, the other one beats very strong assured
You muster extra strength in your priestly ministration
Even when sadness sometimes appears on Your face
And obvious meditation about the final journey ahead

Oh, reverend one, the engineer of God’s building plans
Neither Your illness nor weakness will lift You up from earth
The time will come when the Lord Almighty, with the hands of His angels
Finishes the beautiful temple for Your

Your patron, the vicar of Ares
Whispered to me, after the Mass, with a knowing smile
Let your vicar keep praying earnestly
The angels in Heaven hardly built a corner-stone for Him.

 
15.08.2008. Before the Holy Mass. I rendered it for the intentions of The Holy Mother of The Immaculate Conception. I got thinking, as a human being, how to understand the purpose of such intentions. Then, in front of my eyes, I saw the silhouette of The Holy Mother, like a scene from a film. She was picking up big packages (our requests) from the floor. There were angels around helping Her. Then I heard in my heart, “when you offer Masses and Rosary prayers for the intentions of Mary, you help Her carry these heavy packages (people’s desires) to be lifted up to Heaven.

 
Mass with an angel

I am going along the street, in pouring rain
As if the sky couldn’t hug crying
I am heading to You, Jesus
Hidden in the golden chamber
I am going to the Holy Mass

I welcome You, together with my usher angel
We sit on the bench, like an inseparable couple
I entrust myself to You, Jesus
At this moment, full of grace
At the Holy Mass

My angel, crammed among the faithful
Hides his wings under a coat
I know he would like to be with You, Jesus
At the altar, among the other angels
At the Holy Mass

Please go, my guardian, I whisper to him
Leave your coat and straighten your angelic wings
And adore Jesus and Mary there on high
At this great moment of beatitude
At the Holy Mass

I have a request, my guardian, maybe too daring
Please kiss Jesus’ feet for me
Touch and visit your world at the altar
Fill your angelic wings with light 
At this Holy Mass

When you stand by the priest
Who gives the gift of The Holy Host
Please smile at me, my guardian angel
And give me at least one breath of the altar’s miracle
Unto my everyday life.

 
18.08.2008. Before the Holy Mass, I said to Jesus, ‘You require holiness from us, but we, through the original sin, are so crippled in this world.’ Suddenly I heard in my heart, ‘Therefore, you get wheelchairs from Me and I push you in your wheelchairs, provided you really need it.

 
Painful Longing

On an usual day 
Clouded like a face of a child
Longing touched me
It was so overwhelming
That I had to stop to muse upon it
This Longing was silent 
It didn’t allow my tears to flow
Upon the rustle-free silence
It became a guest in my heart
It wreathed a nest on the thorny crown
It hurt deeply…

I couldn’t hug it with my hands
It was bodiless …
Blood was flowing in my heart  
With a strange rhythm 
Oozing among the thorns
With a hurting groan
And Longing, like a bird, settled in a nest 
Didn’t fly out … 
Although the thorns of the crown were hurting
Oh, my silent, painful Longing
I give You my heart, please, stay there
Remind me of Your existence 
It means nothing that You are stretched on the cross
Bleeding and leaning against the Gethsemane rock
You came to me, like a silent, righteous guest
And it is I who will speak for You …
I will cry for You …

 
In the shadow of the cross

In sadness
Pouring over the soul, like a deluge
Bringing waters full of hurting roots
I stand in the shadow of the cross
Looking for a cool shelter

Suffering Jesus
In the grilling heat of our sins
Burnt with oblivion and ungratefulness
He is still on the cross
And doesn’t seek to hide from the heat

I want to hide in the shadow of Your cross, Jesus
When so much humming of evil thoughts haunts me
It torments me like the smell of poisonous flowers  
My way is perilous
And my strength … is only human

I will close my eyes and ears 
The shadow of Your cross will heal me
And the tired human sadness 
Will be soothed with a lullaby of a prayer
And will fall asleep under the cross.

 
26.08.2008. Banneux, Belgium
I wake up at 3 o’clock at night. I remembered about suffering of Jesus in the dungeon. I pray saying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. A voice informed me that Jesus while staying in the dungeon was plagued by all human sins which had been and would be in this world. He enlaced all the burden of all those sins. He did not omit any human sin in His suffering. He got to suffer unimaginable pain, to save all of mankind.  He took human sins as His burden. He descended to hell (we say it in prayer); He also experienced the anguish of all condemned souls. The executioners were cruel when they toyed with the Holy Body of Jesus in the dungeon. There are no witnesses to it, but some nuns in their visions, saw His sufferings. When a man acknowledges Jesus’ enormous sufferings in the dungeon, he should never be indifferent or never forget about his own perpetrated inequities.

 Next day, during the recollections in Banneux.

We discussed the problem of childlike spirituality. Jesus as an infant … silent, meek and voiceless, as He was, knows the sins of the world and He suffers.

His unpretentious nature was worthy of emulating Jesus. It is a difficult task; but I think that the period of human infancy is a period of our great spiritual development like learning how to sit, walk, get to know the world etc. If we accept the spirituality of infancy in our own development as being silent, avoiding negative concepts, unassuming, being realistic and worthy then we will get to know the pure love of Jesus.

We will get to know God with our materialistic-free soul. It is a difficult task, especially in a world which is as vain as ours; which is beclouding our spiritual growth and acknowledging the truth.

 
Offering of the soul

I go round the world
Often among half-truths and deceits
They cheat you with the light of seeming happiness
They detain people with fetters
Like the slaves in a material world
And the Truth abandoned on the cross 
Is bleeding …

During the Holy Mass, in Adoration
I will search for the Truth under the cross
I will offer It love and hope
At this holy moment 
I will give freedom to my soul 
Freedom from half-truths and deceit of the world
I will mix my tears with Yours, Divine Truth
Maybe with this human adoration 
I will stop eternity for a second
And the Truth will bleed no more.

 
High on the cross

On the hill of Calvary, on Golgotha
You were hanging, very high
Merciful hands couldn’t reach You
Only a hurting spear …
There on the cross, separated from the earth
Lifted up to the sky
Can You see more?
The whole world is at Your injured feet
Oh, merciful Jesus

You can also see us 
Thousands of years after Golgotha
You can see the executioners of our generation
But You also see saints, martyrs 
You Are looking at Saint Faustina
Proclaiming Divine Mercy
You see pilgrims paying tribute to Your Holy Mother
You see those who hurt You with their spears
And these who adore Your cross
On the cross You can see more!
You can also see human crosses
Unnoticed, humiliated, and trampled on by ignorant crowd
Driven into the ground with aggressive feet  
Covered with the mud of pride
Like forgotten tombs 
Lift them, oh, clement Jesus, onto Golgotha’s high ground
Light up the light of hope on them
The light of Your painful Mercy
From now till ever more
Because high there, on Golgotha
You can see more …

 
 
20.09.2008. Gietrzwald (famous Polish Sanctuary). Saturday Mass. I was praying in the intentions of someone in the family, an elderly person who is not very religious and currently ill. I focused on the picture of the Holy Mother.

Suddenly, in front of my eyes, The Holy Mother appeared as if it were being projected on a big slide. She resembled the figure I saw of the Holy Mother of Banneux, Belgium. The figure was very large. Her hands and legs tied with chains, weighed down at the bottom, by heavy balls (like with the galley-slaves). I heard in my heart, ‘Confession communion…….’

I understood that this person could get help but he must fulfill these obligations. Without penance, The Holy Mother’s hands were tied. Suddenly I got up and went to the confessional, wishing this person’s heart to “thaw” and speak to his soul.

Going away from the confessional, deep in my thoughts, I stumbled over a baby-carriage or perambulator. I was curious and expected to see a child inside. But to my surprise, a face of a grown up man looked at me from inside. He had a beard, moustache and penetrating eyes. He was  young and frail and had the body of a child.

‘You see.’ I heard, ‘how “chained” I am to you, I am simply “disabled” because of love and what about you?’

Two days passed and I was still thinking over those words, I couldn’t understand them well enough. Suddenly during an evening conversation, I was struck by a sudden enlightenment.

Jesus is always waiting (like the ailing man-boy in the carriage). He holds out His hands, full of Love, ready to forgive, but we have our free will, we can choose  either to receive Love or to reject It. Jesus is “clement” toward us. He can only give Love. We ignore this Love in our lives and go away from God to tend to our own matters. He is always waiting.

 
Mercy keeps waiting

I come to you among the storms of your life
I am not a thunder that roars and hurts
But a light breeze that gathers storms
I am not a judge, man, I am Mercy

I come to you, bearing My own cross and yours
Please, put all your woes on it
Give Me your hand, relax your clenched fist
May My Mercy lead you on

 
Although you pass by far from My House, The Holy Church
You are afraid to stumble over its steps
It was Me who fell before you, at the Stations of the Cross
They kicked My Mercy in dust and shout

 
At night, My House has the gates locked
Like a people’s house, with a key for protection 
I don’t lay My head on a pillow at night 
My Mercy is sleepless all the time

What can I offer you, the unfaithful man
Who prizes your own will, above all?
I have surrendered My life already, the hangmen have taken It
But they haven’t slain Mercy n Me

The day will come when you lament over your free will
It forced you not to give Me your hand
Remember, in your despair - I will always be with you
Come and let Me embrace you with My Mercy.

 
03.10.2008. In October, 1 went on a pilgrimage to The Holy Land. I offered it in the intentions of The Divine Mercy for the souls in doubt, who search in order to find relief in Jesus. I felt great joy and spiritual richness which filled my heart. I wasn’t able to express my feelings with words and I didn’t even try to. Let them stay in my heart as the treasure that can’t be defined with numbers. I would like these poems to reflect my feelings, and if I happen to encourage somebody to take part in such a pilgrimage - then, may God bless you abundantly.

 
Bethlehem

There is such a beautiful town
Covered with the wounds of history
The town where Love was born
The town where Love was expelled
Divided, bleeding
Filled with sounds of bells 
And Arabic prayers emitting from minarets
With voices of pilgrims for hundreds of years gone by
With bazaar stands with figures of Jesus
Artistically crafted from olive-tree wood
The place of God’s descent to earth
Bethlehem …
In the stony Grotto of Nativity
Pilgrims kisses of adoration are marked there
And the amiable gestures of those who ask for graces
Warmth flows out of lamps and people’s breaths
The star of Bethlehem adorns this holy place
Millions of pilgrims on their knees
Touch the holy mystery of Nativity with their hands
Here, in the Bethlehem Grotto
The Holy Mother gives The Holy Infant to everyone to feel
And looks for a cradle, in people’s hearts
She puts little Jesus in it with love
And trusts that Her offered Son
Will be nourished with human love
She trusts that we will not change Him into a souvenir
From Bethlehem
A figure made of olive-tree wood.

Oh, Holy Land

Oh, Holy Land, You are to me
An enlivening drink and a feeding Host
The grace that flows down
The desire of my soul
The picture of an ingenious master
You were, The Holy Land, like a tender touch
Of The Galilean Sea and The Jordan
And the salty Dead Sea
The breath of Jerusalem clatter
The warmth of the desert sand and a soothing breeze‘
The Bethlehem mystery of Nativity
You offered me the purifying tears on Calvary
At the tomb of Jesus, at the sepulcher
You are the painful memory in my heart
As painful as the longing love can be
I went around The Holy Land, The Land of Jesus
The Land of Mary, the Apostles, Ann, Elisabeth and John
I touched the stones that didn’t lose the memory of Jesus
In Kafarnaum, on Tabor Mountain, in Galilee, Judea
You are, The Holy Land, in my soul
You fill it with beneficent light
With beautiful love that can be born in man
I reach for it with my hands, I take it out of my heart
On happy and bitter days alike
You taught me, The Holy Land
The prayer of the heart
To praise The Lord, with every step and breath
I looked for the sacred traces on the stones and in the dust
The traces of Jesus’ feet, His palm prints on the rock
His spilling tears, out in Gethsemane
They are there, in The Holy Land
Like the relics  
As s sign of love covenant between God and man.

 
02.11.2008. Feast of the Purgatory souls.

 
On Souls’ Day

I go through the gate of the cemetery
That separates the two worlds 
Between those who learned the mystery of death
And these who haven’t touched it yet

How disturbing are you, the mystery?
Or maybe you feed the Spirit with hope?
Covered with a slab, decorated with flowers
You are silent to us, the living ones

There are names, dates, wreaths and crosses around
Strange, unknown, but oddly related
It is your world that my loved ones are resident
Not with me, but  with you, they are celebrating the mystery

I, with the lamp, burning with  memory
Want to sanctify this enigma
Autumn leaves on the slab of the grave
Try to say about it, but the sound is too faint

We light up the lamps with the prayer of love
For graces to the dead, for forgiveness of sins
We send you our tears, because love is still bleeding
Oh, Jesus, we beseech, be Merciful onto them

At this Souls’ Feast meditation, we penetrate the worlds
We try to probe the mystery of death 
And although we look for closeness, reviving our memories  
The horrified heart is afraid to get to know it

When dusk sets on the cemetery ground
And darkness wanders among the burning lamps
We can hear songs of our dearly departed ones
“The time will come and you will know our mystery”.

10.11.2008. I was thinking about people’s talents; about this great gift that should be used to show good, noble purposes.

Unfortunately many talented people use their talents for the apotheosis of evil. It is also said that evil is very attractive and infectious, hence there are so many films, novels on crime, depicting evil nature of man. What do we get from reading such books or seeing such films? Depressive mood, fear, distrust, vengeance and imperfection. Writers, film-makers speak about showing truth. What truth? Only the “black” or adverse and perverse.

Evil that is intertwined in the works of art should be shown as a fragment of human life when we take up our fight. The elegant writer’s style disappears somewhere; feelings are expressed with vulgar words. Similarly it is so with human behavior. They say: we take off our masks, we show the essence, through evil?

They often create and glamorize the use of alcohol, narcotics, psychedelic music and pornography. Young people are made to believe that it is the “cry of truth” about the contemporary world.

Human heart wants the truth; it recognizes it in great, heroic actions which are often silent. Do the writers and film-makers want to “deafen” the truth which people’s hearts want so much?

Even if evil exists, it is not worth such apotheosis or glorifying. Just by describing evil in reality with great talent - does a lot of harm to others, especially to young minds. When young people are asked about authorities - they are doubtful. Why?

It’s great that after considering the matter more deeply, they mention John Paul II, who believed that first of all, man possesses good.

A talented man should show good and fight for good. Evil also needs talent to be presented in an attractive way. Authors fantasize the genius and macabre nature of the devil in such awe inspiring levels to captivate deluded youths.

Let’s pay attention to the generation that was fighting for Poland s independence. They believed in moral values, such as God, Honor and Fatherland. That generation didn’t make moral values relative. Maybe those who shout out loud about the power of evil over man, subconsciously look for nobility and good because they didn’t experience it in their own lives.
Especially now that this shouting is very loud. But if the creators show evil arid distortions to make the subject more attractive and to make more money - then it is a purposeful demoralization.

 
Human faith

Sometimes it shows up like a white rose
Lost under the feet of a running crowd
Once it was as clean as a communion dress
And full of childlike enchantment for God
Now oblivion - steps over it
It withers from words full of hostility
Somewhere at the bottom of the heart, memories flutter
Of family prayers and holiday Masses
And the stepped-over rose fades away

 
Sometimes faith is like a violent wind-storm
That opens up the bolted door violently
It changes Shavel into Paul
It washes blind eyes and deaf ears
And then you search for God desperately
And wash your hard sins away with heart-felt tears
The confessional is your last rescue
Your mouth is still hungry for the holy nourishment
The grace of faith touched you suddenly …

 
Sometimes life doesn’t give a rose or the grace of hurricane
A sprout only, with hurting thorns
But you hold it patiently, in your hand
And count the thorns, like the pearls of the Rosary
And you carry your cross stubbornly
The Holy Spirit lights up your path of faith
You feed with the Mystery of Love
With the radiance of Merciful Jesus
And your faith doesn’t fade away

 
You, my faith, may be a trampled rose
You can be the grace of a violent wind-storm
You can be the cross; patiently carried
The Lord gave you a choice
Out of Love … for you.

12.11.2008 I have gone on many pilgrimages and each of them gave me different spiritual experiences, even if I have been at the same place twice.
There are many places that my soul “pulls” me to, again and again, as if it received some special “food” there. Never the same.
Thinking about pilgrimages, suddenly I saw a big, colorful circle in front of my eyes. It was like a rainbow, made of many different colors. This circle was made up as one beautiful, complete body. What color is it? … and I thought about my beloved Holy Land and then I saw deep red and gray color, like with a pigeon. Belgium - I have been at those sanctuaries many times - and I associated them with violet. The chapel of St. Faustina in Warsaw, where we have our monthly meetings as a formation - I saw white. The sanctuary of Archangel Michael in Gargano - I saw beautiful yellow. San Giovanni Rotondo - white. I associated these colors strongly with particular places. I don’t know why, maybe it is just my imagination? Or maybe each sanctuary acts on a soul this way? Maybe it heals our souls profoundly, leaving a lasting trace, and the circle with colors is just an artistic “vision” in order to explain something that man will not quite know with his mind but his heart and his soul are able to “know” it?

After every pilgrimage, I felt some transformation within me, a kind of healing from faults, something like “purifying”, higher sensitivity toward God, toward another man, and I could see my faults more clearly and I try to get rid of them.

Maybe every pilgrimage is like the color of changes, it is an attempt of perfecting our own spirituality.

Holy alleys

There have been many roads, paths and alleys paved for us
Ever since our feet touched the ground
The hardship of pilgrimage is waiting
Sometimes among the fertile fields
That smell with buckwheat and herbs
Sometimes we move along the mired roads
Of empty space where road signs are blurred
We go along a narrow path, with fear
When evil fate holds out its hand to us

There are also the straight alleys, waiting for us
They lead us to Mary’s little springs
When you go down this alley once
And wash your hands in the spring, at Mary’s feet
Then you feel unusual longing
For the alley in Gietrzwald
For the alley in Banneux
For the alley in Lourdes
For the alleys of other sanctuaries

The alley is shadowed by trees, like an angel’s wing
It pours peace into the heart
Mary’s hand is leading
Oh, Holy Mother of beautiful alleys
Give the holy alleys to all people 
Give the holy longing for them
Give the holy memory of them
When life pushes us
To the hard roads …

 
Gratitude

I wished to send beautiful words to the altar
And adorn The Offering of The Holy Mass with gratitude
But my mouth couldn’t say a word
As if someone ordered it to be silent

Only hot tears were flowing down my face
Composing a strange melody out of them
Mysterious notes written with tears
My soul, like a musician, was playing the flute

It seemed that it was hardly a moment
The bell for The Mass stopped this concert
But the tune, written in the notes of the heart
Remained in my memory, like a song about human gratitude.

 
17.11.2008. During the Holy Mass (I dedicated It for the intentions of the Holy Mother), I was reliving The Last Supper and The Stations of the Cross of Jesus, very strongly.

In front of my eyes, I obstinately saw a rock with a stuck-in stake. The vision was so real (the size, the roughness of the rock) that I felt like touching it.

When I had the Host in my mouth, I heard in my heart, a voice so sad that I couldn’t stop crying: you don’t even know how lonely I Was……

During Adoration, I was considering these words. But Your Mother was with You, Jesus, and John was, too. Holy Mary – unselfish, devoted Love, and John. Why was it John, and not any other apostle?
John - is a symbol of Divine Infancy, of trust, of unlimited faith. What does Jesus expect from us, on our human Golgotha? I thought that it is Mary’s assistance and our trust. The trust of a child that God is always with us. This “cross stuck in the rock” is also assigned to each of us. Jesus speaks about loneliness. The loneliness when we leave Him; our lack of faith in the cross at the tragic moments while we are at our Stations of the Cross in this world.

I understood that nobody is lonely if only he stands at the cross, like trusting John. He, Jesus is always waiting.

Where He is and you are, at the cross, there is no room for the despair of loneliness - there is He, Mother, trust, God. There are so many great persons. The despair of loneliness disappears.

The words of Jesus ‘You don’t know how lonely I Was’, mean to me that even now, Jesus is lonely on the rock of Calvary of our hearts, when we succumb to despair, to hopelessness and we don’t trust in God’s constant presence in our souls, and in Mary’s readiness to assist.

Praying for love

How can I recognize love on earth
If I can’t feel the touch of Your Love, Jesus?
You will not favor me with the gift of heart and wisdom
Earthly love will die among tears of despair

Please, weave a nest with Your Love in my heart, Lord
Then I will hold out my sincere hands to people
I will be a gift for them, like a fisherman with a full net
And not like a hungry beggar, waiting for the alms

Oh, Heart of Jesus, the source of Merciful Love
Teach Your Love to mothers of this earth at the cradle
So that the voices of the children resonated beautiful and noble
And the world never seemed a gloomy secret to them

Please touch us strongly, Lord, with Your Love
May Its abundance appear to be fidelity, in the hardship of life
Touch us, Lord, with Your Wisdom
Which recognizes the teachers of beauty and false love.

 
21.11.2008. During meditation, a question appeared in my heart - how is Jesus going to judge us after death? How are we going to see ourselves through our sins, mistakes, downfalls, but also through good deeds that we did? It is a great mystery but … nonetheless, man should think it over.
I had a vision of a big circle, in the middle was Jesus. The circle vas divided into the Stations of the Cross. Will we be judged according to the Stations of the Cross? - I asked myself. Maybe Jesus’ Judgment of us will be like this. Indeed, it is said that Jesus carried the cross to Calvary for each of us. So we will stand in front of the judge with our crosses on our backs. How have we carried them throughout our lives? Was it the same way as Jesus did? Or was it like a rebel who casts awayhis cross because of his own philosophy of life?

Station 1 - unjust court sentence. How many unjust sentences have we passed? How have we risen from our downfalls? Have we appreciated the assistance of other people? What were we like in the context of other people (Veronica, Simon)? What importance has the Holy Mother of Assistance had in our lives? Did we turn to Her for help? What have we said about the teachings of Jesus? Maybe we were critical (the Station of stripping off the robes), did we try to defend Him? How many nails have we hammered into His hands? Did we decline His help when He wanted to raise us from our falls?

We can keep considering all these premises as long as we have time. Until we reach the Station of death. This is only my personal conclusion - an assessment of the way of life of man through the Stations of the Cross of Jesus. On The Judgment Day, there will be - He and I. There will not be any shouting of the crowd or excuses such as: but others did the same. There will be - our eyes and His, and in between - the painful Truth, the Righteous One, the Final One.

 
Request to the saints

There are days when I feel great emptiness
I don’t feel Your presence near me, Lord
You became the dearest guest who went away
Leaving the painful longing behind

In the mailbox of my soul
I can’t find any letters of loving consolation
My mouth can hardly say any cohesive prayer
My legs can hardly lead me to the Mass

I implore You for help, Mother Theresa
For the staying power of Your suffering
And You, Sister Faustina
For entrusting in God’s Mercy

Just look, my beloved saints - I say
How weak I am without consolation
And can’t sanctify my daily life 
When Father’s hand seems to be so distant

I squeeze Your frocks with my weary hands
Like the ill woman did with Jesus’ robes
Please, lead me safely through the darkness
Along the hard way of Your sanctity

Please, beseech The Holy Spirit for the grace of light
And not a faint candle-flame for me
And turn my childlike desire of God
Into mature fidelity.

08.12.2008. I felt a need to write the Stations of the Cross meditation in the context of fundamental human law and justice because I thought that it was an important aspect of man’s life in the light of his salvation.

 
The Way of the Cross

Station I - Lord Jesus condemned by Pilate

I am standing in front of Pilate, in front of human justice which allows me to “wash my hands” and not feel guilty or remain neutral in the context of responsibility of my conscience. Pilate refers to the symbol of law. Does he have any moral doubts? He probably does, but he kills his conscience with an excuse: such is the law. Decisions that are made according to the established human law, allow him to “kill” his conscience and moral doubts. Moral anxiety reaches the people who feel the rules of the Divine Law in their hearts. And they fight for truth, often risking their lives, because their conscience of justice was shaped by God and not by the code of law. The code of law regulates the rules of social coexistence and law can be manipulated so much that good is “punished” and evil wins. This fight for “God’s laws” requires great courage and moral strength. This is the task for the Knights of Christ and not for Pilate-like people.

 
Station II — Lord Jesus carries the cross

Christ, not only carries His cross, but also He carries all unjust sentences that are passed in the society, immediate family and the world at large. All moral pain of the victims. It was not the wooden cross that pressed down on Jesus, but the enormity of this great human injustice. There came moans of the abandoned, cries of the hungry, lament of the falsely imprisoned, the ill and the lonely - from the cross that was carried with such a difficulty. The sound of injustice accompanied Jesus on his way to Golgotha. And the harm of the poor who were abused by the rich, often in the name of the law, made by man, not by God.

 
Station III — Lord Jesus falls for the first time

Before Jesus falls under the crushing weight of the cross of injustice, He holds out His hands toward the indifferent onlookers of His Passion. Help the harmed – He calls - give bread to the hungry, medicine to the sick, liberate your moral conscience. Put a warm hand on the lonely and abandoned ones. Good can be done only with the hands and hearts of man. Human hands can be holy. The indifferent crowd didn’t give Jesus their hands, didn’t react to His call for mercy. And Jesus falls …

 
Station IV — Lord Jesus meets His Mother

Jesus’ Mother is under the cross. Her tender, merciful hands and heart. Jesus knows the beautiful Love of His mother, and He knows love of other mothers for their children, their readiness to protect the lives of their daughters and sons, risking their own lives. How much devotion, how much health, the earthly mothers offer their loved ones!

The contemporary world creates laws that kill these beautiful relations. Young girls make careers, collect money and they are taught that, first of all, they have a right to be happy. This right for personal happiness allows abortion, allows to kill a child in the womb. Some countries already have such a law. Millions of human beings 
disappear from earth. The painful look of Mother and Son. On Her hands, there are souls of unwanted children.
Mary hands them to Jesus. The cross becomes heavier …

 
Station V - Simon of Cyrene helps carry the cross

Soldiers order Simon to help the convict. Simon didn’t want to, but when forced, he yielded. For Simon, Jesus was a stranger. Like many ill people, hungry ones, condemned ones - they are strangers to us. We think – let others help them, for example, social welfare because we pay our taxes. When Simon carried the cross together with Jesus and when they stumbled over the stones, Jesus’ eyes were looking at Simon with gravity and love. Jesus was teaching mercy to Simon. Their hearts and hands acquiesced each other. For us, the person that we help, stops being anonymous. This person has his name, the story of his life and often becomes a very close one. But we must “force” our indifferent heart and remember God’s command requiring our conscience to help our fellow human beings. Social care often has cold hands - it only touches us with law, but the hands of a loving person provide help that is warm, joyous, and full of hope and not demanding compensation.

Station VI - Veronica wipes Lord Jesus’ face

Veronica was a courageous woman. Law didn’t permit her to come up to the convict and show mercy. She was risking being beaten by the solders, and experience pain, even being killed. She didn’t calculate whether it was good for her or not. All she saw was a humiliated, aching man in front of her. No man should humiliate another man in the name of justice, this is God’s law. The solders were beating Jesus according to man’s law. Oh, human justice, how cruel you are!
Veronica runs up and wipes Jesus’ face covered with sweat and tears. Maybe, at this holy moment, the executioners were standing still, confused, as if they were paralyzed. They could hardly believe that such courage exists.
The Lord gave His Countenance reflection on Veronica’s veil as a reminder of His face. It was an everlasting gift. God doesn’t forget people’s moral courage. He marks them with His Divine Seal.

 
Station VII - Lord Jesus falls the second time

There was no Simon, no Veronica. On Calvary road there were - Jesus and His executioners. They were in a hurry to carry out the verdict. The heat from the sun was unbearable; their close ones were waiting at home, and maybe enjoying warm meal?

They were carrying out their duty, according to law. They didn’t care if Jesus was rightly accused or not. They carried out their duty professionally. How many of us carry out our duties well? We can repair something, build a machine but there are professions where we serve other men. A nurse can dress a wound perfectly, but she doesn’t smile at the patient, doesn’t console him. A doctor gives his dispositions concerning a patient, as if the sick were a thing to be repaired and not a person with feelings. A teacher assesses a student according to his knowledge. What about a judge? Isn’t he too fast to give verdicts? They are professionals with cold, ruthless hands. Routine numbs their hearts. And the patient looks into the doctor’s eyes with fear and seeks a consoling friendly glance. ‘I am here to treat, not to amuse’, this is what many doctors imply.
Before the indifferent gaze of the executioners, Jesus fell the second time. Their job was to lead Him to death.
They don’t want to talk with Him or know Him. Somebody else established law and they execute it.
Oh, Jesus, falling for the second time, give people warm hands so that they could help and raise their fallen fellow human beings.

 
Station VIII - Lord Jesus meets weeping women

Jesus was so exhausted and hurt, that He evoked compassion. Whoever this convict was. He was pitiful. Women mothers have tender hearts. They are lamenting and crying. Oh, pity! You are only a stepsister of love. And Jesus wants love from people so much. Don’t cry over me, but over your children - He says. Jesus sees the world of lonely mothers, the world of strife, shattered families from wars and divorces. His family was great. What will happen to these women? And many others, hundreds of years later? Jesus sees the pain of old mothers who lack compassion even from their own children. He sees mothers hugging hungry children and dead ones
because wars kill conscience and mutilate justice.

Station IX - Lord Jesus falls for the third time

 
It was not of the wood of the cross that troubled Jesus but the great pain of the Savior’s heart, over the fate of man who does mindless harm to other people. He, Jesus who never harmed anyone - was condemned. He, who loved people, healed them, and fed them – received a punitive, lawful verdict. As if love should be condemned. Crucified Jesus falls for the third time. Oh, Jesus, The Sublime Good, why do people succumb to such evil? Why are they indifferent to injustice? Why do they constantly fight and kill each other instead of sharing love?
Conceit tempts man to become God and ruler on earth. The conceit of human  gods is sowing seeds of death. Was this the reason The Son of God was crucified and humiliated?
But His humiliation, His fall – planted seeds of God’s power of providing His care and gives life.

Station X - Lord Jesus is stripped off His robes

Jesus’ body suffered from the inflicted wounds. It was not enough for the executioners, they shattered His dignity indeed. They tore off His robes that were hand-woven by His Mother, so that His moral disgrace becomes greater. Jesus, who called for purity of the body, for treating it as the temple of The Holy Spirit, was stripped naked publicly! False accusations, slanders, gossip - hurt man’s soul and are often more painful than physical wounds. Injustice hurts more than physical wounds. The wounds of the body could be healed, we could live with physical disability but there is no healing ointment for wounds to our human dignity, resulting from false, malicious opinions. This is the pain that penetrates into the whole body, spirit and soul. If could be so humiliating that man can hardly rise and entrust his love to other people. Then his greatest danger is hatred and unforgiveness in man towards his perpetrator. Oh, Jesus, stripped off Your Mother’s robe, Your Mother’s Merciful Protection - give people who have unjust verdicts, the grace of forgiving their enemies, just like You did.

 
Station XI — Lord Jesus is nailed to the cross

Injustice crucifies, poisons slowly, hurts immensely, like the nails hammered into Jesus limbs. Human injustice often matted out according to the rule of law, destroyed spiritually and killed physically, many righteous people, and downgraded or humiliated upright characters. The Christians, unborn children are killed with impunity, the innocents are killed in man-made wars, the hungry die in the midst of banquets. Where is law and justice? Men do it to other men … Oh, Jesus nailed to the cross, always forgiving and just. Judge the executioners; give the joy of Salvation to their victims.

 
Station XII — Lord Jesus dies on the cross

On the cross, Jesus gave away Himself to the Salvation of mankind’s souls. Blood flowed out of His side that was pronged with a spear. ‘Oh, God, God, why did You leave Me?’ He cried. But His very last word was ‘I desire”. He  fulfilled the will of His Father. Love of God and Jesus’ Love for people have won, being paid for, with Jesus’ blood and death. Satan lost the battle but he didn’t leave the world. The idea of  the redeeming death of Jesus on the cross has been criticized and mocked at for centuries. Human history is the history of evil fighting with God and the Church. Atheistic ideas that God is only man’s imagination, is gaining in popularity. Church and priests are blatantly criticized. Young people’s souls are being poisoned. The defacing of God is going on! The Devil smiles in glee.

For His persecutors, God declares, through St. Faustina - the time of Mercy, just in the XX century, the century of many false prophets, ideologies, many Saturn engineered conflicts and greed.

But Satan is relentless! He hammers his ideologies into people’s minds that he is the redeemer and can make them achieve their dreams outside the church without Holy Sacrament, Eucharist, penance, Holy Mass, Heaven and God.

There are people who say that they don’t need a priest for the confession and can talk to God directly. Human conceit is always alive and God gives time to everyone. His justice is not like the justice of man. He judges out of love and humility. Oh, Jesus, who died on the cross for our sins, evoke in people, love for mankind, the Church, for the priests; give the holy patrons the strength to convince people how important the Eucharist is, how much power It gives, how much power It pours into the weak body and spirit of man. Give us The Holy Spirit, so that we could recognize The Truth in our lives and could get closer to God through the power of His Holy Light.
Oh, Jesus, on the cross, You died for our sins - forgive also my sin which caused Your death.

 
Station XIII - Lord Jesus is taken off the cross

Jesus is in the arms of His Mother, who is crying and full of pain. Human justice has been satisfied. The Son of God has been killed. But His teaching goes on; it has been going on for over 2000 years. You will learn from the fruits. These fruits are accounted for with thousands of saints, martyrs of faith and the living Church. The Cross of Christ on the rock  is still alive. Man was created as a reflection of God and he longs for abundant love and Jesus taught such Love. Jesus’ Mother, The Co-Redeemer, reveals Herself in the world (Lourdes, Fatima, La Salette). She asks to pray the Rosary, to meditate over the mysteries of Her Son’s life. She solicits graces for people and she beseeches Her Son for graces for them. So many people are healed physically and spiritually because of Her. So many people came back to the cross, asking for forgiveness and replenishing their soul. Oh, Mary, holding your dead Son on Your knees, forgive those who beseech and give the grace of faith to dead hearts so that they could come to life again. Oh, Immaculate Mother, who was on Golgotha with Your Son, be with us at the hour of our death.

Station XIV — Lord Jesus is laid in the tomb

He was treated like an ordinary man. He lived like we did. He experienced human feelings, human worries, He wept, He healed. But Jesus’ grave is empty. Our cemeteries are full of bodies of our close ones. Human graves will be empty, too. The dead will resurrect, like their Savior. He defeated death, out of His great love for man. Our sins are like our graves. God gives hope for eternal life to those who can kneel down at the cross, adore it and will live according to the teaching of Jesus. Oh, Resurrected Jesus, bless our lives on earth, so that we could be granted the grace of meeting You.

 
A Letter to Father

You sent me, Lord, to a survival camp, to earth
I felt the touch of Your kiss
The angels were leading me in obedience
I saw with their eyes, I felt with their hearts
Good and beauty 
My mother’s lullaby wrapped me in bliss
Like royal safety

The stamping of strangers’ feet edged me on
Onto the road of maturity 
I witnessed false kisses and smiles
I saw righteous people in poverty
And evil rearing its ugly face unashamed
I saw justice behind the bars  
Egotism of the winners 
And silence of the defeated

You threw me the cross for my rescue, Lord
And also the Angel of Consolation in my Olive Garden
The words of prayer returned with power 
Which gives sense to people’s choices  
And I began to write a letter to You, my Father
From the earthly camp of survival
I hereby put down the letters that are slanted, dotted with pain
I am still learning the words of love and truth for You.

 
14.12.2008. During thanksgiving after the communion, I was thinking about our life here on earth and how difficult it is. Those who are gone, must feel relief, I suppose. At this moment I heard in my heart. ‘Here, on earth, I Am with you, with the ill, with the suffering, with the lonely, although you don’t see Me. Up there you will see Me, but I won’t be with you the way I Am here on earth. I understood that this world, our life here, is extremely important and only because of our living here, we can have contact with Jesus. He is constantly with us, taking care of our lives. As long as we live, we are with Jesus and we fulfill God’s will and His plan concerning our lives. We commit sins but only here on earth, in our lives, we can change things for better; we can ask for God’s Mercy. Therefore, forceful, premature killing oneself (suicide, euthanasia, and abortion) is like depriving a life of a chance to be with Jesus, to be with The Merciful Guardian. The place we are going to, which is usually the transitory period – Purgatory, and there we can not  correct our earthly mistakes. We may see Jesus, but we are left behind. Only the prayers of the living can bring relief to the dead. Life, whatever it can be, must be respected, because Jesus is with us, our Guardian. Only God decides the length of our lives, because life is precious and   makes it possible for us to repent from our sins - only here, on earth. Up there - there is justice. Death blocks our time for transition. Then, there is only judgment.
How intense must be suffering in Purgatory of those who, here on earth, failed to avail the golden chance given by God; and they, in their life on earth, didn’t notice Jesus standing beside them in every life’s event. And we know that there is evidence of the people who were seriously ill, and at the last moments of their lives, they held out their hand to God. If this life were terminated (euthanasia), they wouldn’t have this chance. Indeed, we don’t know God’s plans concerning our lives. Sometimes they are so unpredictable that they can be called a miracle. A miracle can only touch the living, not the deceased!

A concert about life

I plunge in a praying meditation
And cover the sounds of the world with thick cushion
I listen to my soul’s speech in silence
Like a musician, waiting for an inspiration

 
The first notes of this concert play hope
About the first cry of a newly born
About faith which blooms like spring flower buds
About light that flashes with colors of a rainbow

And the musical concert sounds with man’s life
Light tones intertwine withdark ones so intricately
That I would like to mellow them down the scale
There’s so little harmony in this concert of life

And suddenly a voice comes out, like a lost singing
It rushed through the instruments:
“Listen to these chords about man’s life
Which finish his concert here on earth”

Hark, to what notes this heart is singing
And what refrain he repeats, of his final song
Does he sings like an artist, mature in God?
Or does he wimpier like a baby, in spite of his age?

Oh, concert of life, how important these songs are
Sung on the way of painstaking pilgrimage.
Will they sound with a sonorous psalm, at my life’s end?
Or will they be just a cheap hit?

Give me the notes, Lord; let me play my concerts
With the harmony of prayer, with my good deeds
So that I could finish my concert with a song of praise
When You turn off the lights on my stage.

17.12.2008. While I was focused before The Holy Mass, I saw a beautiful picture, as if a great artist painted it. There was a figure of Jesus coming out of the altar, all luminous, dressed in light robes, and in front of Him, there was a road, lit up with thousands of lights. Jesus, hand was raised, like on the picture of Merciful Jesus. Suddenly He turned to the right side and went into the darkness. It wasn’t the complete darkness, but rather the grayness of dawn. He was going along rough, mountain paths, thick forest paths. I was following Him, in my imagination, trying to understand this beautiful vision. Then I heard in my heart: ‘Jesus comes to your life, which is “overgrown” with bushes, with weeds of your sins. Jesus’ way was difficult.’ I saw Him stumble and climb the mountains and at moments He stopped to rest. Oh, Lord, I thought, how hard Your efforts are. Jesus is always ready to go with us through our lives, often in the darkness of our doubts and our lack of faith. Where is the limit to Your hardship, Jesus? - I thought. In a distance, I saw an inscription, high over an empty field. The inscription read: “death”.
I understood what this picture tried to convey to me. Jesus goes, beside us wherever we go, whether we are lost physically or spiritually. He looks for us and finds us on our winding paths. He strides along, like a missionary with light, until the very end of our lives. This borderline, our death, can also be a moment of dazzle with the light of Jesus. It can be a moment of recognizing Him, like the good villain did on the cross.
Jesus always stands by and waits. Will you recognize me, man, or not? It is your decision.

 
Prayer for a house

When I kneel before You, Jesus
And ask You for a delicate heart for me
Let it not lock itself in concrete peace
In a concrete housing block
With carving plastic windows overlooking the world
Bulletproof against life

Give my heart, Lord
A house with wide-open windows
For the people passing by
For their laughter and tears  
For nature, blooming in the spring 
And falling asleep in he winter

Let me see sunrises and sunsets
Of nature and of man’s life 
Give my heart a house, Lord 
With a transparent door  
So that I could let in anybody
Whoever stands there

And let my heart, Jesus
Not tremble from fear of the coming day
Let it not close the windows out of pain
Even when You come with the cross
And lean it against my house
While passing by.

23.12.2008. On an ordinary, gray morning, a thought came to me (maybe it was connected with, a pre-Christmas anxiety when people talk so much about trimming the tree and amassing presents with so little time for God), that man on earth, like other creatures, have senses only for survival and not for adoring God. We keep forgetting that eye-sight, hearing, taste etc. are necessary for us to live safely, but many of us succumb to our senses, creating false gods on earth” to idolize, yielding to gluttony (taste), lust (eye-sight), allowing ourselves to be overpowered by worthless words or music (hearing). We forget about the essence of human nature. We have
been created as the image of God, hence there is a godly element in us - the soul. It is the soul that communicates with God. God speaks to her and sends signals during The Mass or prayer. Sometimes, thanks to a great grace, man becomes dazzled and starts to change his life. We perceive with our eye-sight, our hearing, our senses - what is important on earth for us to survive, if it is worthy or not - it depends on us exclusively. The children in Lourdes, La Salette, and Fatima saw The Holy Mother with the eyes of their pure souls, others, standing by, didn’t see Her. Why? I think that they were looking with their carnal eyes. The world of God is invisible for our senses, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. It reaches us through the opening of our souls to this world.
The unfaithful or spiritually short-sighted claim that if you don’t see something physically, it simply doesn’t exist. But people aren’t like animals that only follow their instinct for survival. They have free will - the great treasure, given by God in confidence. Free will also enables us to know the desires of our souls. And soul is like a telephone, if she is pure, then she receives signals clearly, and prayer, Mass, sacraments - they all transmit into the soul, the signs of God from eternity. If saints trusted only in their senses, they wouldn’t “soar up” high in their sanctity. Senses, it is a perfect material for evil that deludes us with the glare of illusion and justifies sins. It takes on the shapes of pagan gods, idols, so that man succumbed to temptation, so that he was enslaved with senses. Every human soul desires God, desires truth. Such a desire gives power, strength to survive in hard conditions. When man relies on senses, then he has fears, depressions, lack of sense of value of life. The values that we achieve because of senses make people weary, sooner or later. A strange longing remains. It’s good when God, in His Mercy, grants the grace of faith to us. It brings us more happiness than temporary, earthly goods.

 
A talk with a stranger

You say that the world pushed you away
You threw loneliness, like baggage, on your back
And tightened up your mouth, not to whisper any prayer
And set off on your life’s journey

You pass by the people, not looking into their eyes
You watch your heart not to run after another one
There are others beside you, dressed in lonesomeness
Looking into the boundless future of tomorrow

You see light only under your fatigued feet
So that you don’t stumble over life’s crosses
The sky and the stars don’t evoke enchantment 
You don’t think about God for He is too far from you

In this hour of darkness, fear and distrust
When the frost of your conceit changes your tears into icicles
There is still hope with you, the hand of The Most Holy Mother
The Maternity care of Her Beautiful Love there

It is following you with the Rosary of your tears
It puts them together in tens, like the truth about you
The holy hand dissolves your icicles
Into the human tears, hot and salty

Throw off your baggage of pride, it harms you so
Bend your knees, gaze up and look for the light in Heaven
Let the hands of The Holy Mother lead you 
She will shelter you … against Justice.

 
Thank You, little Jesus

For Your smile and charm
It evokes happiness in my soul
Thank You for the blessing of Your Nativity
It gives me Hope
Thank you for Your one tear
It becomes light for my will
Thank You, little Jesus
For the pain that You suffered here on earth
It becomes the grace for my pain
Thank You for the joy and sadness of the Holy Family
They become power in my life
Thank You for the poverty of Your cradle
It becomes treasure for my soul
Thank you for the poor shepherds by Your side
They enliven my faith
Thank you for the star of Bethlehem 
It becomes the emblem of my way.