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Ojciec Pio
Gablota z wytartym habitem,
znoszonymi sandałami
ze zbolałych stóp.
Zakrzepła krew przyklejona
do małych rękawiczek
i ten przenikliwy wzrok,
który spowiadał każdego
na odległość zastygły
na niemej fotografii.
Setki tysięcy listów
zamkniętych za szybą
w wypowiedzianych gorących
prośbach o modlitwę.
Potężny głaz
chroni przed chciwością
ludzkich oczu.
Tylko kwiaty
każdego dnia świeże,
przynoszone na nowo
świadczą o oddaniu,
odwrotnej miłości
i tych niemych prośbach
wypływających wraz z potokiem łez.
O wszystko co boli -
tak jak dawniej.
A ja -
za podarowany
przecudny zapach fiołków
wraz z twoją książką
stałam tak blisko ciebie
nie mogąc wykrzesać
jednego słowa.
Tylko łzy - potok łez.
I tylko łzami mogłam
powiedzieć ci co czuję,
co serce dyktuje.
I także - jak wszyscy inni
z gorąca prośbą
o kolejne fiołki
Ojcze Pio.
czarnulka 1953
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Dzisiaj stronę odwiedziło już 308 odwiedzający (365 wejścia) tutaj! |
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