Author: Leon, Dehumanization, Despair, Divine, Female empowerment, Heroism, Hope, Humanity, Poetic translations, Posts in English, Prayer, Recommended by Leon, Recommended by Plutonia, Seelengeschwister, Soul siblings, Twin Flames, Universal Love, WWII
Plutonia and I watched an interesting post-apocalyptic film yesterday, which wonderfully combines with the following prose poem dearest Heidrun Regina shared today in the German original. The film, an image from which I use towards the end of this post, may be too noisy and brutal for some, but these lines will be gratefully appreciated by all dear ones.
Wolfgang Borchert was a German author and playwright who served in the Wehrmacht during the Second World War, and who in his works never compromises in questions of humanity and humanism. He wrote Dann gibt es nur eins! a few days before he died at the age of 26, in 1947.
We still need this spirit today, and it seems that even the gentler souls among us, often especially these precious ones, will be called to be brave, each in our own unique ways, never alone, never getting lost in this world, all of us together joining hands and keeping the connection between Heaven and Earth, the awareness of our Love essence.
Thank you, Heidrun. Thank you, everyone. 💜 🙏 Leon
* * *
Translated by Ryan Wilcox
Then There’s Only One Thing To Do!
You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If they order you tomorrow to stop making water pipes and cook pots and start making helmets and machine guns, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Girl behind the counter and girl at the office. If they order you tomorrow to fill hand grenades and mount scopes on sniper rifles, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Factory owner. If they order you tomorrow, to sell gun powder instead of talcum powder and cocoa, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Researcher in the laboratory. If they order you tomorrow, to invent a new death to do away with old life, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Poet in your room. If they order you tomorrow not to sing love songs, but songs of hate, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Doctor at the sick bed. If they order you tomorrow to certify men as fit for war, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Minister in the pulpit. If they order you tomorrow to bless murder and praise war as holy, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Captain on the steamer. If they order you tomorrow not to transport wheat but cannons and tanks, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Pilot at the airfield. If they order you tomorrow to carry bombs and incineraries over cities, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Tailor at your table. If they order you tomorrow to start sewing uniforms, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Judge in your robe. If they order you tomorrow to report to the military court, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man at the train station. If tomorrow they order you to give the signal for the ammunition and the troop trains to depart, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If they come for you tomorrow and with your induction papers, then there’s only one thing to do:
You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, you, mother in Frisco and London, you, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the Mississippi, you, mother in Nepal and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo – mothers in all regions on earth, mothers all over the world, if they order you tomorrow to bear children – nurses for military hospitals and new soldiers for new battles, mothers all over the world, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Because if you don’t say NO,
if YOU don’t say no, mothers, then;
In the noisy port cities, hazy with steam, the large groaning ships will grow silent, and like titanic, mammoth corpses, filled with water, they will lethargically totter against the lifeless, lonely, algae-, seaweed-, and shell-covered walls of the docks, the body that previously appeared so gleaming and threatening now reaking like a foul fish cemetery, rotten, sickly and dead –
the streetcars will be senselessly bent and dented like dull, glass-eyed birdcages and lie like petals beside the confused, steel skeletons of the wires and tracks, behind rotten sheds with holes in their roofs, in lost, crater-strewn streets –
a mud-gray, heavy, leaden silence will roll in, voracious and growing in size, will establish itself in the schools and universities and theaters, on sport fields and children’s playgrounds, horrible and greedy and unstoppable –
the sunny, juicy grapes will spoil on the neglected slopes, the rice will dry up in the desolate earth, the potatoes will freeze in the plowed fields and the cows will stretch their dead, rigid legs into the sky like upturned milking stools –
in the institutions, the ingenious inventions of the great physicians will become sour, rot, mold into fungus –
the last sacks of flour, the last jars of strawberries, the pumpkins and the cherry juice will spoil in the kitchens, chambers and cellars, in the cold storage lockers and storage areas – the bread under the upturned tables and on splintered plates will become green and the melted butter will smell like soft soap, the grain on the fields will have bent down to the earth alongside rusty plows like a defeated army, and the smoking, brick chimneys, the food and smokestacks of the stamping factories, covered by eternal grass, will crumble, crumble, crumble –
then the last human being, clueless with slashed intestines and polluted lungs, will wander alone under the poisonous, glowing sun and vacillating constellations, wander lonely among immense mass graves and cold idols of the gigantic, concrete-block, deserted cities, the last human being, scrawny, mad, blasphemous, complaining – and his terrible complaint: WHY? will trickle away unheard into the steppe, waft through the burst ruins and die out in the rubble of churches, slap against inpenetratable bunkers, fall into pools of blood, unheard, answerless, the last animal-like cry of the last animal human being –
all of this will come about, tomorrow, tomorrow perhaps, perhaps already tonight, if – if – if – you don’t
* * *
Our YES to Peace
keeps the connection
between Heaven and Earth,
the awareness of our Love essence.
S I L E N C E
* * *
“There was a pastor in Ohio who had a heart surgeon that went to his church, and one of the things that this pastor wanted to do, is he wanted to see a heart surgery take place.
And when the day of the surgery came, they roll the patient in, and they begin to cut her chest cavity open, they took her heart out, and they begin to repair it.
One of the things they do, is they have to restart the heart again before they close the chest cavity. And, as they begin to do the procedures to restart the heart, the heart wouldn’t start.
Finally, the doctor did something so… out of textbook… and not written down… it’s just something that… you really don’t do…
And he got down on his knees and he said:
‘Mrs. Johnson? This is your doctor.‘ He said, ‘We have fixed your heart. We have repaired… there’s Nothing wrong with your heart. Mrs. Johnson, if you can hear me, I need YOU to tell your heart to beat again.‘
And her heart began to beat.
And why do I share this story with you? Because the Great Physician has fixed your heart and my heart. But I find it interesting that sometimes we allow the voice of the enemy to whisper louder than the voice of our Father. It seems like some of these voices tell us that ‘You know what? That situation, we’ll never recover from,’ or ‘What that person did, we can never forgive again.’ But I’m here to let you know that you can forgive again, you can get back up again, you can move forward with your life, and you don’t have to walk with a limp. It’s simply like this doctor said to this lady. This lady had to come to an agreement. The heart was repaired. God has fixed your problem. Your heart is fixed. But you have to come to an agreement with God.
You now look at my story, now look how I went through loss [Danny is referring to the loss of his wife] and how to get myself back up. When I look at the pain of my past, it doesn’t sting like it used to. But I look back and I see… ‘Look what the Lord has done…‘ and I know God wants to do the same for you.
I want you to begin to hope again. He wants you to believe again, He wants you to trust again. The Great Physician, our Father, through Jesus, wants You to tell your heart to beat again.”
Author: Leon, Despair, Divine, Healing, Heroism, Hope, Humanity, Mystical, only Life, Organized religion, Posts in English, Prayer, Recommended by Leon, self to Self, I to i, Tales Untold, Tetractyes, Universal Love
BLAME THE SUFFERER
by Becky, https://thoughtsongriefandgod.blogspot.com/2013/12/blame-sufferer.html
That God is
During the times
We need him most
During the times
We would much prefer
That he make himself
I really don’t know
Why God is silent
I don’t believe
That protection and healing
Prays hard enough
With the right people
In the right way
I really don’t know
How prayer works
I don’t know a lot of things
But I try
Not to make up
Or blame the sufferer
Blame the sufferer
For God’s absence
Say it’s a lack of faith
An unwillingness to be refined
Blame the sufferer
For the circumstance
Say it’s the consequence of something
The life God planned for this person
Blame the sufferer
Demand peaceful acceptance
Of the pain
Makes the suffering sacred
And the person holy
Blame the sufferer
From the sufferer
Push the sufferer
Holds the sufferer
Shows love to
Possibly even suffers
With the sufferer
Blame the sufferer
For the suffering
We do not struggle for ourselves, nor for our race, not even for humanity.
We do not struggle for Earth, nor for ideas. All these are the precious yet provisional stairs of our ascending God, and they crumble away as soon as he steps upon them in his ascent.
In the smallest lightning flash of our lives, we feel all of God treading upon us, and suddenly we understand: if we all desire it intensely, if we organize all the visible and invisible powers of Earth and fling them upward, if we all battle together like fellow combatants eternally vigilant – then the Universe might possibly be saved.
It is not God who will save us – it is we who will save God, by battling, by creating, and by transmuting matter into spirit.
– Nikos Kazantzakis
through Leon of SolitaryThinkers
Complementary post: T O I M M O R T A L I T Y
∞ blessings beloveds
Saint Francis of Assisi Taming the Wolf, by Steve Simon.
About this wonderful true story and this artist’s depiction of it, enjoy the video after the following Franciscan benediction, beloveds.
The most important step in regaining these skills of ours is believing in their naturalness and in the always available higher assistance for our remembrance, so that we trustingly ask our angels to help us navigate through the times ahead as one divinely responsible human family.
Gratitude for your own prayers,
Love and Courage always
through Leon and Plutonia
A Franciscan Benediction
May God bless us with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that we may live from deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations
So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless us with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,
So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless us with just enough foolishness
To believe that we can make a difference in the world,
So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.
The Mirror Principle
There once was a canine, a bitter lone small dog who roamed through the beauty of India. He reaches a palace, so awesome it sparkles, seems empty, let’s see what this place hides. He’s never seen mirrors, all walls here are mirrors, his selves gather, eyes fixed on him. What are all these strangers, oh boy, I hate strangers, they couldn’t care less about me. They piss me off, I see red, I’m barking my lungs out, I know they will fear, they’ll surrender. It’s me or it’s them now, just watch who’s the toughest, I’ll bark, I’ll go mad, they should stop soon. He barks and he froths and he fights, shows his worth, they still hate him, the eyes do tell all. What more can I do now, they look so distraught, but I don’t think they’ll ever give in. He went on and on, till his breath lost all strength, till his soul’s light so dim left this world.
Years later a new dog, a sweet lonely doggy, found his way to this same old palace. Astounded, so happy, like crazy he whimpers, Friends FRIENDS friends! Friends FRIENDS friends! Friends FRIENDS friends! Look at them! They love me like I do, tails wagging, jumps, rolling, what more can you ask for to stay strong! I feel like a puppy, so free to live life now, spread joy, make this WHOLE world shine bright!
Leon From Hades to Light, April 2016
Herzlichen Dank für die Inspiration an liebe Heidrun.