My Dear Jesus-In The Silence Of The Sanctuary Poem by P A Noushad ...

Here I sit, alone, in an old stone church
in England,
beneath the quiet eyes of Jesus
etched upon the wall.
A single wooden chair cradles my weary frame,
but my mind—
my mind drifts like incense
through the cathedrals of my past.

From the cradle of childhood, I journey back,
through corridors dim with bitter dust.
I see myself—
a soul of innocence,
a heart that loved purely,
a friend to children,
a seeker of truth
in a world gone blind.

O how the world crushed me—
with hands of corruption,
tongues of deceit,
chains of superstition
and rivers of lies
called 'truth' by many.

I tried, dear...
I tried with all my breaking strength
to be good—
to be light
in a world that traded light for gold.

I was exploited.
I was wounded.
Not once, but endlessly—
wounds beyond the reach of language,
wounds that bled in silence,
where no ear dared listen.

And here, beneath Your gaze,
I feel Your wounds mirror mine.
You too were innocent.
You too were broken.
Crushed not by sin,
but by the weight of a world
that could not bear your light.

Jesus,
my soul thirsts for the Infinite,
and in You—
I see the Eternal.

I look into Your eyes,
and I find a vast ocean
where my tears find home,
where my sorrow
is not a shame
but a sacred fire.

Let this moment
be more than a prayer.
Let it be a merging—
of two wounded lights,
two innocent hearts,
bleeding into One.

Here, in this church,
in this silence,
my pain becomes praise.
And Your face—
O Your holy face—
becomes
the eternal consolation...

Let this poem remain,
not as mere words,
but as a living flame
until the stars fall
and Judgement dawns.

Amen...