Some inspiring poetry of Fr. Jan Twardowski translated by Fr. Chris Stanibuła
I essentially have done nothing good to others
Only Serafin has passed through my hands.
I was unable to love either faithfully and unfaithfully
Yet Someone could love through me.
Neither have I understood dogmas
In the morning, noon and evening.
Still I trust in You when You close my eyes.
2. Before the Crucifix
I intentionally draw Your hands on the cross too long
To embrace your needy people.
I draw Your wounds thick and Your enormous feet
So they may reach me while I run too far away from You.
I draw Your heart too large.
People say – you can’t do that !
Is He too ugly?
My Jesus has not taken a pen into his hands
and has not written a gospel
Why don’t we write words the way they are spoken?
Why can’t we put into writing how we love?
Why don’t we compose the way we suffer?
Why can’t we give the spelling of silence?
Maybe our writing is too much about what it isn’t.
See Twardowski, Jan. Kazania Gorętsze. Warszawa: Interant 1997, p. 109
Twardowski, p 96
Twardowski, p. 94