.
.
How could I love my fellow men who tortured me?
.
One night I was dragged into a room
and beaten near death with
their shoes
.
striking me hundreds of times
in the face, scarring me
forever.
.
I cried out for God to help, until I fainted.
.
That night in a dream, in a dream more real than this world.
a strap from the Christ's sandal
fell from my bleeding
mouth,
.
and I looked at Him and He
was weeping, and
spoke,
.
"I cobbled their boots;
how sorry
I am.
.
What moves all things
is God."
.
~ St John of the Cross
from Love poems of God,
Twelve sacred voices from the East and West
.
