The library of souls

Maybe it was just a sleepy while

Or maybe I just found myself

Between Earth and Heaven

In the waiting room of purgatory souls?

I wanted to forget this moment

But it was strongly stuck in my memory

Giving birth anew to the memory of that picture

You are in the library of souls – a warm voice told me

All around me was living with the colors of lights

The light was pulsating, penetrating, touching me

The shelves with lighting out books were moving

When I reached for such a strange “work”

My hand pierced it …

I heard laughing, crying, sometimes a groan of pain

It is not a dead paper, I heard, it is life

The life that hasn’t finished the end of its ”book”

The life that only took laughter, love, joy from the world

Until the thread of this life got broken

The time to get to know the wisdom of the cross has passed

In this library of souls, a nice voice told me, life is waiting

It’s waiting for your prayer, for writing the conclusion

For a grace of offering your own cross

For your love which will join the broken thread of that life

With the Divine Mercy.

The blessed silence

I kneel before You, Jesus and I adore You

I put down my hands, they seem to be like wings

Of a bird that is tired of the flight

I bend my knees

So that the feet were not interested in new ways

I close my mouth for the words, the eyes for the pictures

For the humming of the world

I seek, beseeching You, Jesus

For the holy gift of silence

In the space of Your Holy Host

It is like a pulsating water spring

And is flowing out in a warm stream

Through the heart, mind and soul

It cures the wounds of the body that they wouldn’t get infected

With indifference, weakness, hatred

In this stream of silence

I look for the white pearls of the words of God

The words of Truth, Love

I look for Your Countenance, Lord

I see Veronica’s veil, Your Countenance of Manoppello there

There are moments behind the curtain when I see You in the Olive Garden

I imagine that I move out the curtain

And sit beside You, You are so lonely, when in pain

Abandoned by the sleeping apostles

Those … and the present ones

And I hear Your voice:

Aren’t you afraid of My tears, My bloody sweat?

Silence … absorbs my answer

I don’t hear it myself

Only the hot tears are flowing down my face.

Wound and Love

Show me, my Guardian Angel and You, All the Saints

The Love that is not afraid of Christ’s wounds

That it does not escape fearfully from suffering

That it isn’t emotion, a word, a passing feeling

But the Love that is plunged in the blood of Jesus

Is born .. holy

I see a picture of the wound of Jesus’ Heart

The blood in the wound is living, hot, pulsating

Like an exploding volcano

Like a burning bush

There are people before the Heart of Jesus

Gazing intensely, enchanted with this wonder

They get nourished by the very sight and go away

They satisfied their vision but their hearts are still hungry

But there are others, Your Saints, Lord

Who are blind to a danger of burning

They enter into the fire of Love of the wound of Jesus’ Heart

When touched with this Love, they just smile …

As if they discovered a mystery

Here is what Love looks like – I hear my Angel’s voice

This Love has a human face and body

Of contemporary Simon and living nearby Veronica

It has the helping hands and legs, going to the sick

The ears that hear painful complaints of the fellow men

This Love has a human face but the Countenance of Jesus

You have shown me, my Angel and You, All the Saints

That when the Love that is plunged in the Lord’s Passion and in His Heart

Is born … as holy.

Love, hope and faith

Submerged in a deep dream

I heard my angel’s question:

Can you paint love, faith and hope

On people’s faces?

I remembered a woman that I met once

She was carrying a handicapped child in her arms

I still see in my eyes her loving glance

And I still hear her warm words and his mumbling babble

It was the moment … of love being born

A fleeting while … but having a concrete shape

How to paint it with colors, when …

The heart sees it, not the eyes?

And the heart sees the colors so different from the earthly ones …

Did people see love in Jesus’ deformed face?

Veronica saw this love with her heart, not with her eyes

How to paint the face of hope?

Is it like a flower, a pure lily or a transparent water-spring?

My angel, a little sleepy

Wanted to hasten my considerations

And said that hope may have my face as well

When I seek and offer kindness with mercy

When I don’t yield to the darkness of evil that lures

When I rise up fast from another downfall

When I see the face of Jesus beside mine

When I believe in prayer that it works wonders

Though the world scoffs and shouts: it’s just an illusion!

I didn’t wake up my angel

So that we didn’t talk about the human aspect of faith

Which I saw in the face of a beggaress near the church

In different times, in winter, in rain, in the heat, holding a box for money

She repeated to everyone with humility, with hope:

May God bless you and give health

Then I whispered to my angel that faith is like her …

Humble and resistant …

Resistant to the cold of the world that can kill this love

To the wind that sweeps prayer out of the heart

To the frost that is like a dagger that hurts with its indifference

It brings joy out of little graces and it is also suffering

But it never turns to weakness …

When we fight for “bread”, for the nourishment for our hungry soul

The bread that nourishes with Love and Hope.

The look

Adoring worship

Is decorated with … silence

And though the humming of the outside world

Penetrates our ears

Our heart, like a bride

Kneels down before Jesus on the Altar

And submits itself to this awesome mystery of encounter

It yields to this holy moment

The moment when Jesus is looking at us

Engulfed in this adoring worship

We ask the Lord questions and pray for graces

Sometimes we say about painful wounds

And sometimes we just submit ourselves to silence

It cradles our soul

It lifts us to the golden monstrance with angelic songs

This encounter of man and God

During the act of adoring worship

Does not need any words …

This delicate blow of the Holy Spirit

Unites us with the Lord on the wave of love

And though doubts may pierce through your heart

That we don’t see and hear Jesus

But He, Invisible, is speaking … to your invisible soul

The Invisible is talking … with the invisible

In the holy silence, created out of the sparks of God’s love

The sparks that light up in our soul the waning flames of hope

The gaze of Merciful Jesus is waiting

             For our words: Jesus, I trust in You.

Great and little holiness

Great saints are for me, Jesus

Like beautiful, gothic cathedrals

Martyrs awake worship in me

But also anxiety … that while gazing into their eyes

I will not see my own misery

I see my soul as a little chapel

Hidden in the forest of life where the fragrance of trees is like incense

Singing of birds is like church music

And prayer is a joyful or painful calling

There is my beloved picture of Holy Mary in this chapel

And a statue of Joseph with the Infant, thrown out on the road by someone

The face of the Infant is covered with cracks

On Joseph’s garment, the old paint is scaling off

My little chapel is not a gothic beauty

There aren’t any rich pictures nor statues of value

But I love this picture of Holy Mary and the statue of Joseph that I found

I talk with them and ask how to be a saint

When I am plunged in my soul-chapel

I call to You, Jesus, in my lonely littleness

And I hear a voice, full of love

So close, so fatherly:

Holiness … can be a gothic beauty

Or a passion of the cross, or a painful virtue

And sometimes it can be a little flower, hidden from people

Or a mysterious bud, waiting for the rays of My Mercy

             To blossom with the flower of holiness.

I don’t seek …

Whenever I want to speak to You, Jesus

About my love for You

The silence gets nestled in my body

It becomes a gentle wave, a light breeze

That absorbs the coming words

This silence is like a humming bird

Drinking the nectar from the flower cup

Like an ingenious, godly artist

Archangel?

It gives my heart a joyful ecstasy when I experience beauty

The heart loves this creative Silence

And understands it

The heart desires it more than words

I don’t seek beautiful words anymore

In the archives of books about human love

I adore the Lord and follow the light

Along the blue-red route of blood and water

Toward the pierced Heart of Merciful Jesus

I seek a prayer, offered by silence

The prayer that is carved in my heart

The prayer of love that no wave will wash out

No wind will blow away

The prayer that the heart will never forget

Even if the mouth forgets it

The beautiful prayer of silence, in which You, Jesus, speak

And teach me … the words of Love

             So that I could talk with You.

Why do you love Me?

When I said: Jesus, I love You

I heard a question ... why?

And the words: don’t quote the words of holy people

Form your own prayer

About your loving heart

I know, Lord that You want me to reach the bottom of my heart

To find the kingdom of beauty there

The pearl hiding the secret of God’s love

The gift for human life

And I shouldn’t be afraid to know and accept it

I take the pearl in my hands and see my childhood there

My parents gazing on the cross and the picture of the Beautiful Lady

This is God, my daddy says, and this is the Holy Mother

They are also your Father and Mother … the child is surprised

The living parents here and Those silent ones, nailed to the wall

I love You Jesus, for You have given me a gift

That I could love and enliven those “silent parents”

So that They wouldn’t be just signs on the wall

I have received Them into my heart

And I meet Them at Holy Mass

I love You Jesus for when fear and despair

Tried to push me to a downfall

I felt a cross that was growing up like a living tree near me

It was becoming an apple tree, nourishing with the fruit of hope

This cross was lifting me up, this cross of Yours

I love You Jesus for this question … why?

And I register it together with my prayer of love

And I put it deep into my heart

Let my heart be like the Jerusalem Weeping Wall

Out of which, You Lord will be taking out my prayers to You

             From my loving heart, every day, as long as I live.

Tears, smile and singing

When I was embraced with a strange sadness

I asked my Guardian Angel

To ask the Holy Mother for one tear

May this tear dissolve this sadness

And the Guardian Angel covered His face with the wings

And was silent

I asked the Guardian Angel

To ask Mary for a smile for me

To fill me with joy

That She listens to my prayers

The Guardian Angel put aside one wing and looked

And was silent

I asked the Guardian Angel

That I could hear Mary’s singing

When She and the Archangels are singing psalms to God

I wanted to fill my heart with the sounds of Heaven

The Guardian Angel straightened His wings

And stopped His silence, saying:

You have already received many tears from the Mother

Some of them flowed down you, unnoticed

Mary didn’t spare you Her smiles

Especially when you were humbly saying the Rosary

Mary’s songs often made you fall asleep

When worries like wasps, stopped your sleep

Mary consoled you, wept over you and sang

Now you:

Send your tear to Mary when She suffers from many sins

Send Her your smile to adorn Her

Like with a beautiful dress

Sing a song …

About your love to Her

So that the wounds on Her face … would not bleed

Holy Maternity of Gietrzwald and other sanctuaries

When I was kneeling before You, Holy Mother

I received peace as a gift

As if the door of a family house were opened

A strange house, without walls and furniture

The house, knitted out of colors of good and love

Out of prayer and longing

For the Holy Maternity of Mary

In Her Maternity I dipped

Sadness that the world infected me with

I opened my heart to Her gaze full of sweetness

To Her gift of healing pain and anxiety

An elderly woman beside me was fervently praying

A man was shamefully wiping his tears

And people thirsting for … Holy Maternity

Engulfed in meditation I beg the silence

To show me the secret of Mary’s Maternity

And I see Her, sorrowful, under Her Son’s cross

Like a mother weeping by the bed of her sick child

I see Her, holding Jesus on Her knees

Like a mother, grieving over her dead child

I see Her tears when She asks …

Wipe My tears, don’t hurt My child

You are parents, mothers like Me

You have come to My picture for the gifts

I don’t spare you Heavenly gifts

Give Me the gifts of goodness and love

For I am not a prisoner in the golden frames of the picture

I am a living mother, present in your life

I reveal the secret of My Maternity

Before every mother and father

I know your pains and I touch them and heal

With My love and prayer

And I desire so much

To sanctify … your maternity, my dear children

With My … Immaculate Maternity.

During my recent years of pilgrimages (in Poland and abroad) I dedicate every pilgrimage to the intentions of the Holy Mother. I also dedicate Holy Masses to Her intentions believing that Her power of wisdom and Her Mercy penetrate the life of each of us. Sometimes, during the Mass I “see” in my heart the silhouette of the Holy Mother with a decorative basket which she takes to the Altar. The basket is decorated with colorful flowers. Sometimes somebody (maybe some saint) “helps” Her to carry strange, silver packages. When I was on a pilgrimage in Dukla (sanctuary of St. John of Dukla) I also asked that the Mass would be dedicated in Her intentions. Indeed Jesus always listens to Her. I asked “in my heart” that St. John of Dukla would help Mary to carry the baskets with Her intentions. As usual, the Holy Mother put down a “basket with intentions” and a man dressed in a Franciscan habit came out of the Altar. He was pulling a large, village-like sack. What is he doing? I asked in my heart. And I heard the answer: in this sack, there are also the intentions of the sinners who are still committing the same sins. They want to change it but they are too weak. The very “scene” that was being played in my heart was a little funny for me because the saint are also the people with a sense of humor.

I am falling asleep and I think about a book about Holy Mary that I’m just reading. I am at the border of reality and dream. During one wonderful moment that is like a flashlight, I see the face of Jesus – smiling. This smile is not a common smile on the face … it is a sweet goodness and it penetrates with joy. I wish I could remember this smile for ever. The next day, during the Mass I thank Jesus for this experience and I hear in my heart: I always with this smile give you the communion although you may not see it. And even if the priest is sad or gloomy I always give you My smile in the communion.

On the name-day of Holy Mary (12.09) during the meditation after the Mass, I received a message concerning the human life. I heard as if somebody explained to me what is the essence and what we should appreciate in life and what we often forget: “you should feel enjoyed when your life flows in a gentle daily stream, when you are healthy, not hungry and have a quiet sleep. It is a grace, great grace. You should thank for that and not complain about boredom and have strange dreams and desire “fireworks” and intensive experiences. There are people who do have such “fireworks” – actors, famous people. And how difficult their life turns out to be in the end … drugs, alcohol, fighting for young appearance. There was no boredom in their life … but there wasn’t humility, either. The people who were touched by pain, suffering, illness – they beg God … to live in peace, to have joy of daily life. Just simple, usual days. Maybe it is worth considering and appreciating the value of daily life which is blessed by God with peace and the joy of the moment. And may humility reign in our life and not the illusory dreams.

The Miracle of the Way of the Cross

There are such moments on the way of life

When a scared loneliness

Like an injured, tired bird at night

Gets to the Olive Garden

Where suffering Jesus

Leans against the rock, lonely

Although His companions are asleep beside Him

I stood before You, Jesus

Dressed only in my own defenseless loneliness

In great Silence we looked at each other

I wanted to be close to You

I was looking for the moment of Your loneliness

When You were alone, without cheering people

Without crowds demanding Your death

Loneliness hidden in my soul

Desired to meet You and look into Your eyes

This loneliness brought me to the Way of the Cross

And to the Olive Garden at night that was dark

Your Loneliness and fear asked: don’t fall asleep like the Apostles

So I’ve been walking with You for years – on the Way of the Cross

And our only listener is dark night and the cross

I kneel down beside You when You fall

When the cruelty of Your Passion still terrifies me

I ask Simon for help and Veronica for a shroud

And I go forth … because it is only beside You, Jesus

Where my loneliness doesn’t hurt and the fear of the world

That kills all goodness doesn’t lose hope

I see Your hand when it comes off the cross

                It blesses and disperses the darkness of the Olive Garden

                It makes the miracle of the Resurrection of Love.