verlaten (1)

Balasar
19th February, 1942

My good Jesus...

I feel that my heart is torn in pieces by pain. Have You further blows, to inflict on me? May your will be done. Nailed on the cross with You, dripping blood, and in great agony, I see myself, and I feel that I am abandoned by everybody. I can’t live in the world. I am afraid.

-

Jesus...

Come quickly! Come take me to Heaven! Men try to distract me, always pulling out from under me anything that could relieve me, or give me comfort.

They took my spiritual father. They forbade him to write to me. And me to write to him. Let me at least, my Beloved, find relief with You. I am alone in the middle of a storm, which shows no sign of abating.

-

I open my poor heart to You.

Only You know how to read what is written on it, with pain and blood. Only You can understand and evaluate my suffering. The world doesn’t know how to. Men don’t understand anything.

Let me repeat to You, what You said to your Eternal Father: 'Forgive them, my Jesus, because they know not what they do!'... They are blind. The divine light fails to reach them. Please, enlighten them all, and give all of them Your love.


~bron~