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.”
Rumi
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