COUNTRY PRIEST


I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong in writing down daily, with absolute frankness, the simplest and most insignificant secrets of a life actually lacking any trace of mystery, they’re working harder than anyone because they never manage to finish anything,

I found myself suddenly incapable of holding a conversation or even answering questions, It’s true that I’d walked very quickly, I’d lost a lot of time Behind me, there was no longer familiar day-to-day life which one can leave behind in one fell swoop, Behind me there was nothing, and before me was a wall, A black wall, suddenly something seemed to shatter in my breast, and I was seized by a trembling that lasted over an hour,

What if it had only been an illusion? Even the saints knew their hour of failure and loss, I lay face-down at the foot of my bed, I only wanted to show complete acceptance and surrender, The same solitude, same silence, but this time, no hope in breaking through the obstacle, There’s no obstacle, Nothing, God has left me, Of this I’m sure,

They were like molten lead, poured on an open wound,

I have never suffered so much, I was nothing but a miserable, unworthy priest, This is madness! A sick man’s dreams,

People don’t hate your simplicity – they shield themselves from it, It’s like a flame that burns them.

 

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