on the road of life

 

The person told me something that had happened.

Something had been said that would never go away.

I could see the pain.

With a grim ruefulness I realised I couldn't heal it.

"You have a wound," I said.

"I know," said the person.

"There are mystics," I said, "who claim to have seen the Lord in visions. Some of them say that even in immortal perfection, in heaven, in infinite glory, in his resurrected body he bears the wounds of his crucifixion. The wounds have become a part of his glory."