My encounters in prayer

04.01.2010. During the octave of Christmas, when everything shines and Christmas Itself becomes a kind of, hustle” to arrange everything perfectly, except for a spiritual experience. While I was praying in church, in front of the crib, I felt strange anxiety. I had an impression that, at that time, little Jesus wanted to convey something essential to me and share the pain that afflicts Him, with me, Later in the day, I reached . “The message of Merciful Love to the Little Souls”. This Message is a contemporary account of a dialogue between Jesus and Margaret, the woman who passed away in Belgium, not a long time ago. After praying to The Holy Spirit, I came across a passage that thrilled me. I quote:
Behold, I tell you: for every innocent life, destroyed at any time, after conception, which is the most monstrous of all punishable deeds — a hundred human souls that are burdened with this guilt — will repent for this crime for all eternity. In the name of justice , that they refer to, they are unpunished when they destroy the work of The Creator in His creation, this little infant, this tiny life - in the womb of his mother, who is personally guilty because of her accord for this horrible crime. My child, pray for these victims of hell. (18.VII 1973).
For many days, I was musing over these words of Jesus — The Infant, who fights for the right of human infants to survive. How indifferently, some of us approach the problem of abortion, how easily they excuse themselves… How important every conceived life is to God. How easy it is to conceive life in our times of sexual dolce vita, how easy it is to kill a conceived child because the very act of conception was not an act of love but a hedonistic moment of oblivion. Along with these reflections, it occurred to me that our recent sufferings, family conflicts, illnesses — which seem to us to be undeserved today - are the consequence of abortions, committed by our relatives or by ourselves. And our tolerance concerning these acts deserves a severe condemnation by Jesus.
We love Christmas, its splendor, the warmth it brings to the family table and beautiful, colorful cribs. The Little Infant in the crib of the XXI st. century is not only a plaster figure, holding out its hands to the faithful, but also a living message for the present-day people. The point is that we must open our ears and hearts to receive this message, even if it is the most painful one.

A drop of Love

I will not know You, Jesus
Unless a haloed ray from Your heart
Unclogs my heart

I will not know Merciful Love
If I hold the world in my arms
And not You, Divine Infant

I will not know the fate of my soul
If I imprison it in my body
And won’t allow it to fly to The Creator

I will not know You, Jesus
If I don’t absorb Your pain
And drape a veil between me and Your cross

Fill my heart, Jesus, with a drop of Your Love
May it become an abundant rain
That will wash away the egotism of existence

Be a housemate, Lord, in my heart
And not a wedding guest
So that I could live with Your Love

Pour the power, Lord, grace and courage
Into my cowardly, human heart
So that it could discover the beauty of Merciful Love

To experience Your Love, Jesus, and fill our hearts with It
Is like knowing the mystery of God’s plan
That involves the life of man.

28. 01.2010. It was a snowy, windy day and I was not in a very good mood. Somewhere in my head, there was a feeling of being “abandoned” by Jesus. I had an impression that our mutual closeness, somehow, got eroded. I knew that these were not good thoughts but ... I was naturally a ‘weak person ’. I had a short meditation, after receiving the Holy Communion, I was able to say ’I love You, Jesus! Hot tears flowed down my face then, I heard the beloved voice,’ Yes, keep telling Me about your love, your words sounds like music to My ears and I don’t hear blasphemies that people spew at Me’. After the Mass, there was a display of The Most Holy Sacrament, the faithful prayed with the Chaplet to the Divine Mercy. I adored Jesus. In my vivid imagination, I saw a large vessel, filled with colors. Many were dark and others were light. There was a little pearl at the bottom of the vessel. I couldn’t understand this image very well and I tried to concentrate. Then I heard in my heart. ‘The light colors are prayers — beautiful but sometimes very special ; the dark colors signify our sufferings and doubts, which is what depresses us in life and saddens His Heart. There are people who, like this vessel, are filled... only, with these colors. There are others who have the pearl at the bottom of their soul. And although this pearl is covered with “daily life”, of dark colors which weakens the soul, yet this pearl is “living on” and doesn’t allow them to be plunged into sadness and frigidity. And when they hear bad words and blasphemies about God — this pearl in their souls, that is deeply hidden, comes to life and brings out the Truth, which doesn’t allow them to be engulfed in decadence and depravity. Their hearts get severely hurt, but encouraged to oppose evil. This pearl is like a hurting thorn, that doesn’t allow our spirit to forget our Savior and His Teaching. Though their lives may be “crucified’ with many sufferings and thoughts about being “abandoned” - they don’t renounce their faith, they don’t succumb to the atheist’s philosophy of this world; even if it is very convincing.

On A Freezing, Winter Morning

I would like to receive You, Jesus, in the Eucharist
I would wear a white sequined dress
With a flower wreath on my head
Like the noble deeds
With a flowing trail ,woven out of my virtues
Which I would offer You
That You may receive me, Jesus
With a basket full of joy and blessing
And prayers like the purest pearls
I would like to …
In the freezing, winter morning
I am heading to You, Jesus
Being sunken in daunting snow
A little short of sleep
Wrapped in cold air
Filled with boring sadness of daily life
And if it weren’t for my heart, hungry for Your love
My body would have frozen in time
In the laziness of common daily acts
I would miss the miracle of everyday Eucharist
My desires would dissipate into oblivion
About my dreams of purity of my soul, wearing a beautiful dress
About the wreath, full of virtues
About hope that my prayers would become pearls
That You would perceive
In the freezing, winter morning, I am heading to You
Wearing a warm cap, but not a flower wreath
In a coat, and not in an immaculate white dress
A little short of sleep, a little sad
Dragging along a baggage of worries behind me
Like an old shopping cart
Then I would sit in front of Your altar
And say: “I am here, Jesus, because I feel hungry for Your Love.”

On the run
Like in a marathon, people run today
And seek laurels to then dreams, in a hurry
They have no time to look back
And turn away from each other
To run faster and faster to reach their goal

They run as if they knew that glory waits on the horizon
Where to get the prize for this crazy race
In such a run, it's so hard to see Heaven
Or to smile and give a helping hand to a runner next to you
They are like swift greyhounds, chased with a sudden yell

They jump over a cross knocked down by wind
It is an obstacle on their running track
While passing by a church, they don't see Jesus there
Time is too short for them to hall Mary with a prayer
When She waits for: “Under Your Protection “in a roadside chapel

And when they reach their destination, paradise of vain desires
They are surprised to see nobody to greet them
And no hand - shakes in a friendly gesture
But only a band of rowdy youths, running and shoving them aside
And ... the aged ones just look and smile sadly

Now they hold a piece of glass, not a diamond they were fighting for
Deceived, they come back along the side trails
They desired worldly goal which was delusion
And somewhere along the way, they lost their families and friends
And perhaps their salvation as well?

They wanted to make miracles, those marathon - men
Fed with the fruits of the world, with fame and money
But a strange hunger was left over, that of the soul
May somebody's prayer light up their hearts with grace
To enable them to pick up the fallen cross, worship and embrace it.

28.02.2010. Another day of my morning Mass. The beloved time of a dialogue with God, After the Holy Mass, I adore Jesus in The Most Holy Sacrament, What do You want to tell me today, Jesus? - I ask, and then I heard strange words in my heart, don’t dress your soul in rags. I thought over these words. In my opinion “rags", denote all unnecessary things that we surround ourselves with. They are the problems of this world that keep us far from God, take up our time, draw us into sin and temptations. Jesus expects his children to wear " royal garments " at the Holy Mass (like it was in the parable of the wedding feast, where the invited guest failed to attend, but only chance visitors) while standing before Jesus, we stand in truth about ourselves and the grace of confession and repentance which purifies us ; then we are dressed in wedding gowns. Let's take off the rags of our attachments, sins. Jesus wants to see us at the Holy Mass, dressed in wedding gowns and not in rags. How great the effort of our will must be made, so that we wouldn't collect the rags that our world often clad us in, as “smart clothes" which are necessary for survival. These rags occur when we indulge in debauchery, greed, indifference to other people's pain etc.

Contemporary Emmaus

How to speak about you, Resurrected Jesus
To those who escaped from Jerusalem to Emmaus, out of fear?
How to turn them back from the way, so that they could believe
And recognize You, like those disciples did
By the way You shared the bread with them?

How to speak about You, Resurrected Jesus
To those for whom God died on the cross for ever
And they don't want to believe that He is still alive?
How to fill their emptiness and lack of faith with Your Love
So that they could recognize You in the Eucharist?

How to speak about You, Resurrected Jesus
To those who take crosses off the walls
And decorate them with idolatrous posters?
How to silence their mocking laughter
So that they could hear Your voice?

How to speak about You, Resurrected Jesus.
To those who suffer and lift up their groans for You to hear
And wrap up hope in a black shroud of mourning
At their child’s grave in the cemetery?
Don’t they pray any more?

Like those disciples, on their way to Emmaus
I ask you questions, defenseless in my ignorance
How to turn back those who escaped into the path of no faith
And those, whose eyes were obscured by suffering
Like my contemporary refugees form Jerusalem?

There are as many ways to Emmaus as people in the world
Each of us has a plan how to escape from the cross
Even those who stood fast beside You, Jesus
And the yelling crowd made them reject You
Is this the way how sin deprives of courage and faith?

I lay my sorrowful hope in the arms of Your Son
You created man on earth, Lord, out of Love
And also, out of Love, You will direct everyone to Mount of Transfiguration, Tabor
And even if this Mount were the earthly Golgotha for many
There is Jesus, up there, on the Mount, sure to hold them by the hand.

The world of screens

Staring at the world of screens, laptops, mobile phones
We see the world behind the dimmed windows
Covered with fog of other people’s thoughts and feelings
Words are flowing from the screens
Like sweets from a torn-up bag
All looking alike
The true life passes by
Computer has no memory for feelings
Somebody is dying somewhere, a mother is crying over her child
An old man is looking for hope beyond the open window
But we ... send a short SMS
Nobody has time today
For long, patient talks
Hearts, hungry for feelings, are dying out slowly
Heads are embedded in the screens
Outward despair is not fashionable any longer
We believe that a physician has the cure for all
We buy a new laptop for the children
For them, it’s a mark of our love and care
And so, time passes, day after day mechanically
Faster than the hands of the grandfather’s clock
Somebody sent us SMS
“You know, I think Martha has died”
Well, we think, that's life ....
But life before our screens
Is not the real life
The real life has the eyes of a child waiting for father’s return
And the silent mouth of his mother
The real life has no remote control to be switched off and on
It is ever awaiting
With the great need of love
And it ticks like an old - fashioned clock, striking loud tunes
Reminding us of a frail life of man
Of his real life, not the one on the screen
And at last, of the truth, well known for some
And very painful for others
That someday, each of us will receive his last SMS
Not from the earth … but from Heaven.

Indifference

Is indifference like a concrete wall?
That rebounds emotions and sheds no tears?
Or maybe it is walk in the dark fog
And absorbs man or engulfs him
And avoids the hand, held out for help
Like an inconvenient nuisance?
Whose stepsister are you, human indifference?
Do you come out of egotism, stone heart, blind eyes?
You were hanged, Jesus, on the cross
That was built out of hatred
And You, through Your Passion, saved us
Forgive them, Lord, because they don't know what they are doing
This is what hurt Love whispered
Until the very end.... because It was forgiving
Suffering, tears, love, good and bad emotions
They are all strangers to indifference
Which doesn’t know what forgiveness stands for?
Unless … it is hurt
Does indifference have its cross, its savior?
Or maybe it is like an icy palace
Waiting for the hot rays of someone’s prayer?

13.03.2010. Adoration in Lagiewniki (Centre of Divine Mercy in Krakow)
I participate in this all - night vigil in a beautiful sanctuary of The Divine Mercy. It is the beautiful time of prayers but rather difficult, due to physical fatigue. I feel great joy and grace of being in this place. I add many intentions to my prayers. One of them is for those who are far from God and live in sin without any regret for their behavior. How to evoke the will to return to God in them? In my heart, I see a strange image and there is no beginning, no end to it, it is simply flowing on.... In the upper part of this image, I can see beautiful glare with warm and joyous light. However, at the bottom, there is fast - flowing black water, full of trash. I have an impression that it is a stone - paved street with a gutter. This beautiful glare above is shining but it doesn't move. Only this dirty trash is flowing. I think that this glare is God's grace that is waiting. Between the glare and the blackness, there is empty space. I think that this empty space is the place for our prayers for sinners and apology.

To the pilgrim

Don't step on the holy place only with your eyes
Set your heart free
Let its fly a s a dove, with stalk of your prayer
It will leave it on a holy picture or a figure
For all of the days of your life
And will return the memory of your visit there before
Because today you are in another sacred ground
May your constant prayers bring you ample strength
When miracle is elusive in your life
Even at the hour of desperation
Connect yourself to the holy place with the blessed thread
And when you close your eyes
Images of holy destinations will be living in you
Let your hands remember the rough walls of temples
And the warmth of sun - baked stones and bricks
The serenity of The Jordan waters, The Galilee Sea
And smooth desert sands and awe - inspiring holy relics
Remember the tears of unexpected joy at Holy Masses
And sigh of gratitude of Thank You, Lord that I am here
Don't feel the holy places only with your eyes
With the hustle and bustle of pilgrims’ clam
Millions of feet eroded the stony steps of temples
Millions of mouths whispered their diverse prayers there
Behold, you are not just a number in this multitude here
You are a gift and a chosen few for the holy journey's end
Do your best to make it the gift of love.

04.04.2010. I had a strange dream. I saw three olive trees on the hilt. Above the trees, there was an inscription on a ribbon: what is your faith like? I had an impression that those three trees are like the three crosses on Golgotha. There were human figures moving around the hill. Some of them, on their knees, were coming close to the tree in the middle, the others were planting colorful flowers. Those who were on their knees, were praying. There was empty space around the tree in the middle, and some trodden-out field. Those who were planting some plants were very busy with their work. My eyes caught sight of those who were planting flowers but I was also observing those who were on their knees and were moving painstakingly toward the tree. While moving, they were even pulling out the tiny plants that started to sprout out in the empty field, around the tree - cross. Why are they doing it? I associated this empty space with a hermitage, with getting rid of our attachments. The tree - cross formed some space around it - the school of trust. There was nothing to distract attention. Those moving on their knees didn’t look back. There was some amazing determination about them. I admired them. The inscription above: What is your faith like? - was twinkling with golden letters. Whom do I belong to? - I asked myself this question. Do I belong to those who stubbornly move toward the tree - cross, or to those who stop to plant colorful plants? Although it is a great job but, at the same time, it is strangely aimless, because I noticed that the seedlings were getting withered
Faith - it is the total trust in God, It is to create the empty space for God’s will, in our lives. Some people declare that they are very faithful but, at the same time, they still have fear which blocks their absolute trust in God. We are already on the hill of faith, but ... instead of going forward; we stop in order to “grow” plants of our own attachments and desires. These attachments can be beautiful, very human, and even very religious. While turning our eyes toward the ground, toward “growing our attachments”, we don’t notice the inscription: What is your faith like? Do those who reached the tree - cross without fear, who reached this empty space - know more about themselves and about their trust in God? Having heard the teachings” at the green, olive tree - cross, they will also come back in order to sow, I have seen it. But their plants ... didn’t wither, at the tree - cross, there is empty, trodden-out space that still waits for the courageous.

Easter Meditation

How much of Your Love is in me. Jesus, and how much of my own?
How weighty is Your redeeming cross on my shoulders?
How many nails are hammered to my crosses of sin?
You assigned such a sober meditation to me, Lord
As a hard examination of my testimony of faith
And Your Resurrection every Easter

How much uncertainty, how much fear for the lack of faith does man feel
So that he could absolutely open his heart to You
And trust in your Divine Message?
How much area must our souls lay claim to
In their immortal boundless bearing
So that we could put Your salvation cross over there
And trust You completely, here on earth?

Give me, Lord, the eyes and heart of Your saints
Give me their faith, childlike and pure
If you acknowledge that I get enough strength from Your cross
Don’t rid me of dark nights and give joy when I feel You, standing by
Let me touch Your cross when I suffer
So that I could recognize You in this meditation about life
And find out how much of Your Love is in me, Jesus
And how weighty is Your redeeming cross on my shoulders.

10.04.2010. Tragedy of Polish plane crash in Smolensk, Russia.

Flower of Hope

There are not enough words to express suffering
Words are passing and short - lived
Suffering has its home
In a crystal vase of soul
And lingers on with unbearable melancholy
As if pain didn’t have the mouth
And our crying can’t be lifted up to Heaven
Only our human eyes, these mirrors of soul
Can express it deeply through tears
But there are more tears than words in this world
They fall into the crystal vase of the soul
And soothe the pain, but bring no remission
Only prayer can alleviate
Our enormous and constricting human misery
When we carefully take the crystal vase of the soul
In our own hands
And pass it over
Into the hands of Merciful God
Then he will put the ever fresh bud of the flower of Love
Among the stones of human suffering
And maybe we will not hear His words
Because of pain
But the flower will be nourished
By our profuse tears and words of prayer
And then it will blossom, exuding around the fragrance of Hope.

Human pain

I have seen human suffering, screaming out loud
And I could feel the frosty atmosphere
Tuning into am iceberg of menace
Ready to devastate every with lack of hope

I have seen human pain expressed with words
They were beautiful, changing pain into a poetic spectacle
Pain itself was getting lost somewhere, covered with flattery
It washed off the heart and flew into space of nothingness

I have seen human anguish in the eyes of the sufferer
If flowed out with the mystery of his heart
The sufferer shielding it with silence of expectation
But he kept this experience within himself

I have seen human agony intensifying everywhere
Where man once tasted harmony and optimism
Of being together with a loving person
In different houses, cities, countries

I have seen human hardship being subjected
To the power of alcohol, narcotics, fun
So that these kings of human destruction
Could possess man and disappear into oblivion

I have seen human woe at the cemetery
Sobbing over the tomb of close ones
Unprepared for departure
Still immature to be cleansed

I have seen human bitterness with my eyes and heart
I have not seen Yours, Jesus on Calvary
You didn't cry, You didn't beg, You just carried on the cross of suffering
In silence, but Your eyes saw, Your heart felt ... our suffering.

Is it possible?

There was an orchard with a large apple tree in its centre
Bearing succulent fruits as red as Christmas tree balls
The orchard is gone now, the tree was cut down long ago
But I … still see this tree

There was a house, not big, just two windows and the door
Inside, there were beloved people and a cat
Long ago, the house was demolished after they passed away
But I … still see it and hear their voices

Is it possible to see what is gone already?
Is it possible to hear voices that got silent?
Oh, how amazing you are, memory of the heart
Being able to see and hear what is not with us any more

Oh, how precious you are, the gift of seeing and hearing … through love
You do make it possible to hear, even in silence
And being able to see beauty when our eyes don’t see it
You allow us to touch the mystery of the value of man’s life.

01.07.2010. It was very late and I couldn’t fall asleep. I prayed and my heart prompted me to dedicate this prayer as to special one to somebody. Then I decided to offer these waking hours with intention to someone in desperate need. I was strangely convinced that this partial night vigil makes spiritual sense. I hereby forfeit my comforting rest for a worthy cause. Then I heard the words in my heart. ‘Your prayer could be either like a beggarly pittance or like a beautiful gift.’ I mused over this proverb. What is our prayer like? Is it just words spoken out only with mouth, as of giving someone a bit of alms out of our leftover or surplus for the sake of giving or duty- bounded with, kind of heartedness? Shouldn’t it be a prayer where God is the “recipient” of a gift to the poor, who offers God his most wishful thoughts or feelings and intentions? Shouldn’t it be a gift to the poor who searches within himself for a precious pearl and wants to offer it to God? He offers the best that he possesses and not what he has as a surplus.
The Rosary is certainly valuable, if prayed with regularly (as a personal duty); but while praying It, is there love in our hearts to reveal its mysteries? Do we feel the beauty of this prayer, and Whom do we pray to?
I think that every prayer is precious, but the most precious one is that which is galvanized towards painful situations when prayer “wakes up” our hearts so much that we want to change ourselves, step higher up the ladder toward God.
Then we abandon the “alms-like” duty of a Christian’s offering, and eliciting and sharing the potency of what is good and beautiful in us, so that we could subdue ourselves to God’s ordinance. We offer our readiness to agree with His Will that concerns our lives.

That same night it occurred to me that it is very difficult to put into effect the commandment of love to our fellow human beings. Then I saw a picture of myself hovering over a man. His outer appearance, his face, clothes, sex - became negligible to me. I was communing with his soul. I saw beauty radiating from this man. I felt a strange kindred affinity between us. His words and facial expression were insignificant. I looked deeper … felt euphoria being exchanged between our knowing spirits-plus God’s love infusion!

Difficult prayer

I would like to pray to You, Lord
Like the repentant, prodigal Son
He knew his sin and iniquity
He also knew the Truth about Merciful Love

I would like to pray to You, Lord
With the words that are born in the heart
Spontaneous, ungrammatical and amiable
With the accent of action and love only

I would like, while praying, to follow my words
May they not flow like nice, gentle river current
But let a river stone stop them
And restrain them when they become an ordinary chatter

I don't want to be like brother of the prodigal son, envious of his return
And deride You when you bestow grace upon a sinner
While a good man suffers from misery and affections
Human justice doesn't understand this

I don’t want to ask You questions: where are You, Lord?
When the innocent faithful suffers
And evil, like a peacock, spreads its dazzling wings?
I just want to be like John, with my head nesting on your Son's chest

Human prayer is complex, Lord
The one that is truly profound and trusting in Your will
Its mystery is the heart that knows how to forgive
And the eyes which, even in darkness, stare at the cross on Golgotha.

Message of faith

If you were a famous theologian
Explaining the mystery of creation
And your words don't open hearts to God's love
Then it will be just a hypothesis stored in a library

If you proclaimed sublime tutorials about God
In rooms filled up with listeners
And couldn't have time to talk to a man in doubt
Then you will be just an imperfect teacher

If you prayed fervently
With your day filled with the Rosary Mysteries
But you indifferently pass by a man in need
Then, your prayer is just dead words

If you were a famous doctor, a medicine inventor
But your hands don’t touch the sick
And no merciful words of hope flow out of your heart
Then you will be just a popular scientist

If you want to make a pure, angelic singing, out of your life
And a man beside you, seems to sound like a false tone
Then recall the parable of the loyal shepherd
Who painstakingly ransacked the mountains to find a lost sheep

Nobleness is a virtue befitting you
When you award love to close ones and honor your beloved dead ones
So why is your heart lazy when someone asks for help?
Is your vision poor when you see a stranger suffering?

When you are gifted to create beautiful works of art
Then say a prayer of gratitude, don’t show your pride
God granted you with grace and His own trust
That you can speak about His love to your fellow men

The Lord has given us a hard message of faith
Its holiness is not in love for beauty, fame and perfection
But in diligent hardship of loving another man
Which is the daily teaching for the heart, not just on Sundays.

The lake

I look for a placid lake with a smooth, clear surface
So that I may dip the stare of my eyes in it
And have no fear that the reflected image
Will be distorted
Deluding my imagination with beauty but not with Truth
I look for a serene lake
Stuck deep in the valley of greens and flowers
The lake where birds sing
Angelic psalms, above the trees
The lake where insurmountable Love looks over
And time does not reign over these waters
There is only here and now
And the soul, free from weakness of the body
Is soaring up into … freedom
People say there is no such a lake
But the memory of it is stuck in my soul
The anxious heart looks for the lost image
It looks for the artist who painted it
For the Heavenly Genius who makes man free
When people’s eyes get engulfed, with complete devotion
In the boundlessness of the eyes of His Love
Over the placid lake, in the valley of greens and flowers
Where birds sing angelic psalms.

A laurel

For a child’s laurel with painted carnation
I thank You, Lord, for Your anointing it
With sublime words, awkwardly written
For the gift of life with purpose
For Your patience, Oh, Teacher of Love
When Your pupil stumbles in the darkness
In search for light to follow the path to salvation
Thank You for my falls when I feel pain of doubts
For the joy of encountering Your Love
For the heavy stones of tragic events
I would never manage to carry them
If I had no trust in Your Mercy
Thank You for those beautiful dreams and peaceful nights
For hope of the rising sun again
For the mysterious flashes of light
Into my soul, heart and mind
Giving an insight into the world of Your Truth
Thank You for the grace of the Eucharist and prayer
For the hand of Your Son that I reach out to
When I find myself sinking
And I thank You for my days, being alone in the darkness
When it seems that I lost You
Thank You for teaching me to share my love with others
How delightful it is when we don’t expect gratitude from ingrates
Thank You, Lord, for the gift of experiencing life
For reminding me who I am for You, not for myself
Although Your teaching is sometimes cumbersome
I am happy to receive it from Your hands, Lord
As the most precious gift
Sanctified with The Body and Blood of Your Son.

The element of nature

Man feels his weakness and fragility against the power of the elements
Then he looks for the worlds that are small and safe
And the things that he could carry with his own hands
And the roads that are easy for his legs to stride along

He builds houses, hoping they will serve as fortresses
Against intruders and the elements that may challenge his liberty
We need such faith for life ought to be jealously guarded
But the truth is painful, there is no such citadel of shelter on earth

It is nice to sit on a rock by a waterfall to cool your feet on its surf
And watch the world pass by, imagining the source of the river
How different the sea is in the darkness with its threatening hum of waves
Meddling cyclones, thunderstorms, volcanic eruptions are so terrifying

The overwhelming, destructive forces of nature renders man defenseless
But man’s heart and his help is the most powerful element
And the grace that brings hope when we are in despair
It happens when we kneel before The One who is The Master of all elements.

The Moments

In my life, there are moments of peculiar brightness
The curtain in front of my eyes is being torn apart
I can feel love in my heart, so passionate and captivating
It lifts me Heaven high with more than human longing
A dynamic surge of spirituality cascades down my entire body
My knees succumb to its gush in joyous humility
My body throbs into rigidity and turns into a statue
I can only call to my Guardian Angel:
Take my soul
And plunge it in this inferno of love
It lasts for only a short while
Like a lighthouse beacon quenched by a massive wave
Then my soul retains control of my mortal structure
In which …
I can see sin as a thief of this Great Love.

The Lantern of Love

You may ask me
How I experience Divine Love, how I feel It?
Just imagine a menacing tempest at sea
With our boat of life sailing on it, rocking precariously
Distressed and helpless at the mercy of nature’s wrath
Roaring giant waves rid us of peace and safety
We feel like a ship’s wrecker in our boat of life
Suddenly, in this stormy weather
We experience an encounter, warmth embraces us
Calm descends, gentle ripples replace the raging storm
We feel peace and joy
As our Friend Jesus the Captain
Takes over the helm of the troubled boat
Now we are in the Eye of Great Love
We have strength and faith
That we will overcome this evil storm
Behold, somebody keeps vigilance over life-boat
It can all happen in a flash, a moment of dazzle
The memory of this encounter will enable me to sail on
And search for the encounter every day
With the Eye of Great Love
And watch out for the Lighthouse Lantern of love and hope
That we do not fall victims of the ocean’s element
While sailing the Seven Seas without Spiritual compass
But we are the children of the Father who watches over His kids
And shines His lantern-beacon to sail our life-boat safely
May this Lantern of Love guide us assuredly to our final destination
Despite high waves and dark nights.

A narrow road
In my soul, I have a picture of a beautiful valley
Covered with lush green fields, flowers, color and light
It is like a resting place for me, a sanctuary
Of safety and joy
Prayer in this peaceful valley makes you spread your wings
I wish to last forever in this Kingdom of Comfort
When I raise my eyes up to the crowns of the trees
I can see another road, a stony one
Full of hostile brambles and dry leaves
Then I hear the words:
The road towards life is narrow and rugged
Then I abandon the safe valley
To enter the stony path with anxiety
Each encountered stone is like my sin and of my fellow man
The stones are slippery and hurt immensely
I pray in hardship as my words slip away
I try to repeat them but they dissolve into oblivion
I can see travelers at the path’s edge
They are like ghosts, begging for help
Great pain pierces through my heart
Where are You, my Land of Comfort? — I shout
Are You here, Jesus? - I ask, depressed
A merciful hand wipes sweat and fear off my face
Don’t be afraid and do not give up the trek now - I hear
I Myself bless the prayer on this road.

A child

My heart is too small
To embrace all Your Love; Lord
It is like a handicapped man running to the finishing line
Ahead of fit athletes, aware he is likely to be overtaken

I can only, my Lord, change into a child
Who puts all his trust and hope to his Father
And follow You along every path -
Reassured by Your voice ahead

I want the food of the Holy Eucharist
To be enlivening, soul milk for me to suckle
And I want my childlike fondness of my Good Father
To remain in my heart forever

May my prayer be a child’s heart-felt weeping
Eager for the attentive hands of the Father
And He, seeing me helpless and needful
Will sing me a lullaby of Love

My heart is too small
To measure the weight of Your Love, Lord
Being a child, I believe that You - the Good Father
Will plunge me into a feathered crib of Your Love.

Go ahead of me

Go ahead of me, my Guardian Angel
So that I may follow Your trail
Light a torch in the darkness
So that I don’t fall by the wayside
Teach me words of love for God during the day
When and if my memory runs short
And when the world’s bedlam deafens my ears
Let some holy man give me a helping hand
Take me to temple
So that I may rejoice in the memory of our Savior
Force my eye-lids to cover my eyes
To enable my soul to contemplate images
That the eyes are not able to see
I can see high walls on my way
You know the gates hidden there
Please lead me through them in peace
So that I didn’t get round these walls
By using safer and comfortable access
Where no mishap can impede my progress
Sing me beautiful songs each day
Serenade me with music of Paradise that You come from
Lead me to little chapels and holy places
Let me adore our Lord in concordance with You
There, in the holy places, You will enjoy some deserving rest
After our eventful passage to pilgrimage
And please whisper at Your Lord’s altar:
I brought You, Jesus, a weak servant
In spite of his frailty, he bears his cross with sufferance
Persistently, he seeks You, please hold out Your hand to him
And anoint him with oil for the present and future days on his way.

Trust the Lord My Soul

My eyes can't see You, Jesus
My hands can't touch Your robes
And even if I force my eyes to see Your image
And hold my hands out high
I still can't reach You.....
So I close my eyes, with my hands on my heart
And ask my soul, the gift to the living God
To have an encounter with You
At the Holy Mass
Go on a pilgrimage, my soul, with The Lord
To Gethsemane, along the Stations of the Cross
Stand in humility at the Last Supper's table
Kiss the holy grounds
Sprinkled with His sweat, blood and tears
Run beside Veronica, in front of the angry crowd
Touch the Cross, like Simon did
And if I fee pain from His wounds
Don’t cast it away
Look over His body for the wound that you caused
And cry out of pity....
Kneel in the dust of Jerusalem road
Beside your Lord
Don't be afraid to look into His eyes
Despite the sneers of the world
That only adores what is flamboyant
And desires what it can touch
Oh, my soul, gifted with the wisdom of The Holy Spirit
And not with human wisdom
Trust that The Lord is at the altar
And only He can quench your thirst and fill your longing
With the holy food of The Communion
Between God and man.

August 2010. Pilgrimage to Banneux, Belgium

I was in the Chapel of the Picture of The Holy Mother; I thanked God for the possibility of coming to this beautiful, quiet place for the ninth time. This was my ninth-year novena. This place is famous for making pilgrims feel peaceful. It has beautiful alleys. Our attention was directed to Holy Mary. Many sick people asked or the grace of healing both body and spirit. Prayers over the Holy Spring filled the atmosphere. People in wheelchairs came with their caretakers from a nearby hospital for prayers. In this sanctuary, we could feel the specific maternity care of The Holy Mother. I prayed in front of her icon. I dedicated this pilgrimage to the intentions of Holy Mary and these who willed me to. It was gracious to have this possibility to come here for the ninth time. I anticipated repeat trips in this destinations when I came here initially years ago. Every time I came here, I feel like home- coming to my beloved Mother ever expecting my return. I am praying now and I am plunged into a strange state of joy of this beautiful Encounter. Then I heard in my heart.' I invited you to.... dinner (????) Take advantages of the graces. For as many graces you receive, so many you should share with others ...’
Dinner- It was the most relishing and satisfying feast and I pondered over this sentence in my heart. It was an enormous grace of hospitality. I felt great joy and inner peace; it was like life- sustaining nourishment that only a good mother could offer to her beloved child, regardless of his excesses. I wanted to store this gladness in my soul so that I could reach for that whenever I can.

Pilgrimages to holy places provide an opportunity for the heart to seek "rest" from the outside world; to “lift oneself” in prayer toward God, to "commune" in prayer with God and recognize His will. This is the time of "silence of the body" to enable the soul to bloom. It was wonderful to converse with The Creator, and with Holy Mary being the Mediator.

During this pilgrimage, in another chapel, when we were having the Adoration, suddenly I heard in my heart....'I want to see you happy and not sad.' It was a beautiful sentence - a Christian should be joyous in his prayer- conversation with Jesus. He should remember that he is loved with the most perfect love. The Love that the world can never bestow upon us. It is an unconditional Love, always forgiving and fulfilling. How can we not trust in this Love?

Joy

Joy has come to me
A strange, Beautiful Lady
I didn't meet Her in my daily life
She became a guest in my heart
And filled me with flowers' aroma
I shrouded Her with white cloth
She sang the Mysteries of the Rosary quietly
And calmed down my body and emotions
She spread Herself inside me with healing oil
Sometimes She was silent
Feeling sleepy from the humming trees and falling rain
From water drops from the Holy Spring
I touched Her with my prayer
I showed Her the faces of people, mentioned the names
Of those that I pray for
She came to life with a delicate throb of the heart
Giving the sign.... ‘I Am’
Don't be afraid, I will not go away
I am not a candle that burns out
I am like a child, conceived in the mother's womb
And I am waiting for a beautiful birth
When you have matured for the time of the Great Cry
Giving birth to the Love of God....
In your soul.

The key

Destiny throws us down to earth
With a mysterious breeze
We have been looking for the Gate of Sense of Life
Since the dawn of our birth
We make whimsical attempts
Trying different keys
Which key will unlock the Gate of Sense of Life?
We look for it our whole lives
We forge new keys with a chain of human mistakes
Some people try to unlock the Gate
Using beautiful words.
Others, glue its shape, out of love for somebody
Still others, these impatient
Unhinge the Gate of Sense of Life with crowbar
The Gate remains silent, when conjured with human ways
We don’t know beautiful words enough
To transform them into the key
Human love likes to walk along with treason
And falls down at the Gate, with bitterness and doubt
The crowbar of the impatient gets broken
And they go away, disappointed with their own disability
And the key? The right one, to the Gate of Life?
It is the cross, draped on your neck at your Baptism?
Forgotten, like a trinket in a casket
It is hidden somewhere in the house now
And is waiting patiently …

22.09.2010. During meditation, after the Communion, I saw a beautiful, mesmerizing image in my heart. High on the throne, sat an ethereal person of considerable size, wearing a light fabric, flowing down. It was white and transparent, not comparable with that seen on earth. I felt the texture's softness and I wanted to plunge into it. It was, at the same time, like warm water. I couldn't dare raise my head in eye contact toward the high soaring figure. The ostentatious glare of his robe did not dazzle my eyes, it was glowing bluish light. It made me feel ecstatic with great love and security. On the left side of this image, I noticed the cross with Christ, hovering high in space. Blood was dripping down the cross onto the fabric, turning its colour into pink. Then I heard 'As long as the Blood of Christ is flowing down to the earth during each Holy Mass, God's Justice is being stopped'
Lord, I thought, how important Holy Mass is for the world, for every sinner, and non-believers. When we participate in Holy Mass piously, with great awareness, we participate in the act of people's Salvation. Jesus, shedding His blood, makes intercession for this sinful world before God.

Embrace the cross

When there is foul weather in your heart and outside the window
Then embrace the cross
Send your soul to the Calvary
There, on Golgotha, in silence
The cross stands like a rock
Murderers' shouts made death silent
And their echo got spread all over the world
Hurting with blasphemies ceaselessly
But at the cross, blessed silence will prevail
Waiting for those who seek spiritual power
In the wounds of The Savior
Raise your hands high
As if you were trying to pluck a star from the sky
Look into The Savior's eyes
And tell Him about your suffering
Silence will lift your voice up high
On the wings of the vigilant angels
And the melody of Christ's words will reach your ears:
“Don't be afraid. I Am that I Am'
Echo these words into the foul weather
Of your heart and beyond the window
And repeat 'Jesus, I trust in You'
And the peace that the world rejected
Sowing poisonous seed into righteous hearts
Will come back to you
There, in the silence of Golgotha
The blood sweat tears of The Savior
Will give you strength and courage to fight evil

04.10.2010. Fatima. I asked the pilgrims coming back from Fatima of their impressions. They unanimously said it was beautiful.... some cited the vast space of the square (much bigger than St. Peter's square in Rome) This vast square was so intimidating to some and it meddled with their concentration. I listened to them, mused on their opinions and waited for years until this pilgrimage of a lifetime. I have traveled to many sanctuaries as a pilgrim. People described their Fatima experiences as awe-inspiring but it was not enough for me. Their words lacked.... spirituality, the very essence of Fatima. The eventful day has come and I made up my mind to go there, what a coincidence! On this very day I received a quarterly magazine “The Immaculate" of The Marian Helpers, about a pilgrimage to Fatima and to Spain, to St. Jacob's shrine. I felt it was my time. Fatima, because it was a crowning glory of all my pilgrimages. It strengthened my faith enormously and was filled with the grace of peculiar sweetness, as if I am a welcomed guest to the Home of the Most Lovable Mother; my love towards Her was exuding through my heart which was not big enough to hold it.. Jesus, I prayed, I am so grateful. Then I heard in my heart...'Your gratitude is like a little petal of flower in the ocean of graces of Diving Mercy that God wants to infuse down unto His devotees. This is an unimaginable ocean of Love. Plunge into It. I said: I would like my heart to beat to the rhythm of Your Love Jesus, like a ticking clock Then I heard; everyone has a paradise "battery" that activates the clock of love in the soul. Don't take it out of your heart for trifling reasons of transgression.

During the evening Rosary and the procession with candles, I was close to the statue of Mary that was raised high, carried by some men, my thoughts and my soul were filled with exultation. Pilgrims candles flashed around in the dark, the golden statue of Jesus was shinning high in the square. The statue of Mary was shimmering from these lights of human thoughts, intentions and desires. My heart was yelling: 'Oh Mary, I want to offer You my unrestrained love.... and intertwine this crescent love with Yours.' But I am too weak to carry the immense Love of the Most Holy Mother upon my heart. I had some doubts for a moment ... maybe I was expecting too much? ..... Among the songs of Ave Maria and clattering of pilgrims' feet, I heard: 'Share this abundance of Love with others, with every encountered person. You will not get drown in my Love. You will quench your thirst with My Love every day. Offer this excess of love to your close ones and to strangers that you don’t even know …

Fatima

There is no silence on the hill of Cova da lria anymore
There is no sheep grazing the pastures.
There is no Francis and Hyacinth running over the hills
There is a huge, stony square, pulsating with people's steps
And with the air filled with the words of prayers
With hearts and eyes staring at Madonna with love

Many years ago, an Angel appeared before the children
Announcing the words that became blessed for the world
Then The Holy Mother testified to them
She announced the message with a voice so sweet
She called for beseeching and repentance for sinful men
And Her eyes were worried about souls’ salvation

Today, Golden Jesus is on a high column
Welcoming pilgrims, His arms spreading out
Once upon a time the wind was humming on these hills
Today, words of prayers are heard in diverse tongues
Once, the sun and the moon were glowing proudly
Today, thousands of candles light up the darkness

Once upon a time, the hills and forests were ever green
Now there are gravels, polished with pilgrims' knees
Only the birds, surprised a little with this change
Do not stop their morning chirping
But they stop singing when the big cathedral bell
Rings Ave Maria for the pilgrims

Over Cove da Iria, the constant prayer is flowing
It bellows high to Heaven with the incense smoke
Wax flows down the candles; every drop is like calling for help
Sins are burned out and God's Mercy blows them out with powder
They quaver with hope for absolutions, Rosaries are held in warm hands
Every next bead discovers the mystery of human longing

Human voices undulate with the echo of the world's languages
The words of the pilgrims are not known, here before
But the Rosary links them like a mountaineer's rope
To ascend higher and higher towards Heaven
Where the Holy tender Hands of the Holy Mother are waiting
To bless all the travelers onwards to God

Oh, Holy Fatima, the gift for souls’ salvation
May silence never dwell over Cova da Iria
Nor the prayers of next generations ever stop
The prayers for miracles to convert the sinful hearts
May the pilgrim, touched with Mary’s Love
Beseech for his salvation here.

04.10.2010. Memorial Day of St. Francis, Who wouldn't admire this saint? He surrounded his life with God. He is an epitome of belief to follow by the faith skeptics.
I attended Holy Mass in Warsaw. After the Communion, I "see" in my soul, an image of a wide-open gate in a green meadow full of colorful flowers. Next to it was another gate, hardly open, just a narrow slit. I wondered what this image meant. I likened it to the teaching of St. Francis who wholeheartedly devoted his time to loving God; He trusted Him implicitly. He opened his heart entirely (like the first gate). Don't we, people who are spiritually weak, often conceive doubt, open our hearts for God's Love only a little? We are afraid to trust and accept God's Will completely. We restrain our love, trusting our thoughts and our will much more. Or curtail our virtuous emotions. Give us, Lord, the grace of opening up to Your will.

In Santiago de Compostella (Spain) at St. Jacob's Shrine, there was a crowd of pilgrims and constant movement that made it impossible for me to concentrate in meditation. The Cathedral was so exquisite with numerous altars and architectural mastery that it was so beholding. I embraced the statue of St. Jacob, like every pilgrim. I had this feeling that I was holding Him at my heart although other pilgrims had tapped importation from this place already, I felt as if I implanted this status into my being.

Santiago de Compostella was the place of 'purification' for me; it was as if I won a spiritual jacket. One should spend many hours there, on meditation and 'yield' to the spiritual atmosphere of this place. The immense splendors of this temple, is uplifting. I had an impression that the temple was saturated with the power of human prayer and offering. It was gratifying to participate in Holy Mass and receive Communion in this Sanctuary. Just here we leave the 'baggage' of our life experiences, our pilgrims' 'rucksacks' of intentions and requests and we wander on.

My last procession in Fatima, our last Rosary together. I accompanied The Holy Mother again, walking close to the statue, and I 'complain' to Her that I have to eventually leave this beautiful place of prayer. Then I heard the words in my heart: “I insist, in all austerity, that you should pray for sinners”. I fell trepidation with these words. The emotional affection connected with the atmosphere of this place disappeared. The enormity and implication of these words hit my spirit deeply and filled my heart with due responsibility. The word 'austerity' penetrated me like an arrow that I must always remember and not attempt to cure it with mere emotions which passes away. I understood that I must not forget the beseeching prayer for those who are far from God and for those who don’t think about their salvation. I thanked the Holy Mother for Her words; 'with all austerity'. Now I shall remember.

When I returned home, I had a beautiful dream about Fatima. That huge square in Fatima resembling an ocean with tidal waves. The golden statue of Jesus in the middle like a lighthouse on the seashore. The square filled with waves of human supplicants with their intentions, live in this ocean absorbing graces into pilgrims. The waves of graces cascading beyond the square into those deserving once beyond ashore. Everything around is alive, moving and sparkling. This place is never empty, huge space – it is the ocean of God's Mercy, where praying people kneel and Mary feeds the hearts of those who beseech for consolation.

The King

You are The Prince Regent, Jesus
Generously endowed with power from Heaven
Our pity over Your poor manager means nothing
One of royalty is never afraid of poverty

You are The King, Little Infant of peace
So great that You don't need glittering throne and palace
People are so eager to look down on others
But You, Little Infant, Are the power above all powers

Opulent regal in and scepter mean nothing to You
You know that moths and decay will defeat them
Your power and wealth are eternal
You are truly the royal crown prince of God's kingdom

Our condition of peasantry is only temporary
Our poverty we want to hide from the world
You came here on earth, from the Kingdom
Where The Father of Love majestically sits on the throne

Our mortal kings here on earth
Delude our eyes with affluence, ill-gotten from their subjects
And You, poor child that gets warmth from hay in a manager
Lacking earthly wealth, You are the rich gift from Heaven.

Oh, Little Infant of Bethlehem, give us the wisdom
That worldly flamboyance does not obscure
The heart that will recognize the value of Your gifts
And will not be deluded by any mediocre crown

Allow us, Little Infant, to recognize by heart, not by mere sight
The essence and power of Your Kingdom
Where Love is seated on the throne
Fighting for our souls’ eternal salvation

And speak to the people, Little Infant, with the miracle of Your Birth
To those who find it so hard to believe
That The King that is truly rich
Is the One Who serves with His Love.

15.10.2010. My everyday Mass. This morning it was wet and gloomy and my mood wasn't radiant on my way to church. I prayed one part of the Rosary and thought how great grace Holy Mass was. I apologized to Lord Jesus in my heart, for my human tendencies; I felt unworthy of His Love. During Mass, the priest sang so beautifully that it compelled me to apologize to Lord Jesus for all that I did wrong; for my indifference; sinfulness. During Transubstantiation, I felt as if I were surrounded with strange fog which spread over the altar and made the altar pulsate a little higher, as if I were hallucinating, I felt covered with white, transparent matter. It lasted for a moment. Then I saw a cross with Jesus over the altar. Jesus pulled His arm off the cross and like a priest, held a large Host and faced it towards Heaven. The arm was off raised at some angle. When the priest was raising The Cup, Jesus, at the same time, was raising it high towards Heaven, his arm was straight upward. I had an impression that The Cup really touched Heaven. The church roof disappeared somewhere instantly. Jesus offers His blood to God, I thought. Strange, but I experimented this vision surely rationally reliving every gesture, as if I recorded a real picture, filmed by a deft cameraman. The gesture of Lord Jesus when He was raising The Host differed from the gesture of offering of the Cup. The highly raised Cup had something to do with the Great Request..... The image disappeared and I was filled with great emotion. I was not able to rise from my knees.... The beauty of this vision evoked a feeling of reflection in me; these great miracles occurred at the altar. How great our faith must be, how much we must beseech for it, so that Holy Mass was not just an ordinary 'coming to Mass' event but the encounter with The Greatest Love - The Offering of The Body and Blood of Jesus for us. And even if our 'human feelings' don’t recognize this miracle, because we are 'busy' with daily life - this miracle is waiting for the thirsty, it occurs in every Holy Mass. I beg You, Lord, let my spirit and heart remember the essence of Holy Mass and may my imperfection not deprive me of the joy of this marvelous encounter with You.

My Advent Rorate Mass

Having been awakened on this winter morning
I am heading to my Advent Mass
Darkness still envelopes the streets
With the throbbing silence of the sleepy city
Sputtering snow crises-crossing the light of street lamps
Early rising shop-keepers scuttling to re-open for trade
Dark figures of the tramps craving for curly drink- fest
Stand by doors of bars wait for their opening
Perched crows, crowded in the tress, croaking unmelodic ally
Cutting the motionless silence of the morning, like a razor
Oh, Most Holy Mother, Are You here, blessing my time?
Are You on vigil?
Hail Mary, full of grace.... I repeat
Stepping carefully along a slippery sidewalk
What were You thinking about, in Nazareth?
When Archangel Gabriel heralded You the News?
Did You feel joy or did shock envelop You?
The church is dark inside....
The pews are filled with the faithful on vigil
The candles light up their aura with hope
This is the hope that I head for, through the streets of my city
Like any human being pre-occupied with my daily life
Feeling joy from encounter with Jesus and Mary
Feeling sad to see people looking for hope outside The Son
Hail Mary.... I keep praying
Redeem those who live in darkness
And those who dowsed their light of hope
Due to ignorance and un-dignified life
You, Mary, who will give birth to the righteous Infant
Please, walk along my dark streets
And shepherd all abandoned and indifferent hearts home
Light up their faint spark of warmth
Before they turn into cold, worthless seeds and damnation
Which put out every little light of hope with a freezing blow.

22.11.2010. There are facts in the life of a Christian which could be acceptable as evident... but when we must defend them solely with our hearts, the situation becomes different.
We wish sympathy or commiseration to those who suffer illness, those who die for faith and for those who are befallen by life mishaps (8th Station of the Cross, when those women wept for tormented Jesus). But when we are traumatized by calamity personally, we feel anger, and get rebellious. We are not able to accept this cross as a grace that was allotted to us although so hard to carry. It does not mean that this cross was designed to weigh us down. We don't understand its spiritual implications. But there are people who sagaciously implement the Gospel truths in their lives and carry their crosses with tolerance and dignity. They feel they co-participate in Jesus' Passion, in His Salvation purpose. These are people who deeply feel the sense of Christ's teaching. Not only do they accept the word but they also live by it. The Holy Mother stood by the Cross of Her Son and She did not want to show her tears and compassion alone but together with Her Son; She wanted to become a co-redeemer of the sins of mankind. She carried this cross with Her suffering heart. In His teaching, Jesus also told us about our responsibility for the world. If we accept our crosses with dignity and prayer, we participate in the Redeeming Act of Christ wholeheartedly. God speaks to the cross- bearer: 'I am with you; I do not turn away from your cross”. May God help us so that we may have enough godly helpers - the authentic followers of Jesus and His Gospel.

Time

Gentle is time for children
The calendar and clock hang high
Days are decorated with Mom's smiles and needful promises
In the mouth there is the taste of sweets

For the young, time seems to be
Like a clock without hands
Future is like a foggy mirage of dreams
Pleasure and laughter are their life purpose

Only Grandmas' mirror in the room
Still the same for many years
Transforms youthful faces aged folks
A reminder that condition and time is not permanent

The mirror is like a judge with a scale of justice in his hand
Who surmises the list of our gains and losses
We hear impatient voices say;
You are not a child anymore …

Strange is this aged appearance
Which attacks suddenly, with a power of a killer
And demands all-life’s accounting balance
It gives a final count of whom we failed badly

The we must find time for prudence
When sitting in front of the mirror
To wipe the make-up of illusions off our face
And look at ourselves ....... in truth

And build a house with the door that opens inward
To welcome The Love of God and His Eternal Truth
To hear those who knock, asking for help
And joyous laughter of those who love each other

And when we build it with human hardship
The house made of the bricks of our heart
Our old age will be of no worry
It will be like a strange lady, seated by, on our bench of life

We don’t like her, in a way
Of course, we still feel quite strong
But it’s good to overcome the grudge
And listen to what she still has to say …

At the manager

I give You my love, Little Infant
Kneeling beside Your manager
I hold You in my arms with motherly tenderness
I sing a litany to You, an Adoration lullaby
The strength of Your arms is greater than mine
Although You are only an infant

I stare at Your eyes, adorable and trustful
Your breath relives my fears
And my heart, full of exultation, whispers:
Hold this Godly Child in your arms tight
Take Him into your life
He is the Savior of yours

Don't leave Him in the shadows in the manager
He is the living torch of Salvation
Hug the Infant to your heart and soul
When darkness of transgression is a temptation for you
Don’t make your life a cross for Him
But a living cradle of His Glory

God, Heavenly Father had painful knowledge
In sending His Son here to earth
But His Love for people is eternal
And His hope is patient
It’s been hundreds of years since The Infant in the cradle
Beseeched for Love with trust

Don't be afraid, He asks, to take Me in your arms
I understand your difficult life quite well
Your tears and your smile will nourish Me
So will your noble deeds, worthy of praise
I will fill your heart with Love and Peace
And your cross won’t be any burden for Me.

The light

In the silence of contemplation
I move away words from my memory
I beseech an angle for holy silence
For a rest in a grotto protected by his wings
In a boundless desert, full of light
Where the wind carries prayers of a hermit
Longing for an encounter with his Creator
In the silence of contemplation
I try to fill the longing of my soul
Bent over with daily anxieties
To carry on with the pilgrimage towards this light
Which does not blind but enlightens and cures
And bestows with the holy gifts of faith
Engulfed in comforting silence
I am waiting …
I remove a desire of my own will
And go along the ways of my life
I see sanctifying mountains that I haven’t conquered
I look for a shelter under the roof of the forest
For sweet repose and atone for my sins
I press my will to keep on my pilgrimage
Although my body gets weaker and weaker
But the longing to see the light makes me hurry
I stretch my hands high when I roam in dark
May the prayer in my raised hands
Lead me like a blind man’s stick
I trust that God’s justice gets weaker
When He hears our heart-felt prayers
And His merciful smile is leading me on
Towards the space where Heaven leans down to earth
Waiting for the wandering child.

Ocean of faith

Sometimes we see images in our dreams
As if a long dead painter still continued his artistic works
With no canvas, paint or easel, only with his imagination
And transcended them into the gallery of human dreams

I saw such an image - a stormy ocean
Brides flying out of the whiteness of the foaming waves
Lord Jesus alive emerging out of the ocean
Holding out His hands towards the people standing on the shore

The mysterious ocean looked like a symbol of faith
Where Jesus Himself was inviting us
True faith is not safe on the shore
It must, with trust engulf itself in Truth

And touch It like a surfer raveling in the waves
And drink and get felled with this living faith water
And fight evil even in pain for good to triumph
And be thankful for the gracious and helping hands of God

Sometimes fear drags us down into a whirlpool of confusion
Distraction of on-shore onlookers could cause mishap
Our strength is not our muscles
But in God, in His Promise of Eternal Salvation.