John Paul 2 Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

Born in the shadow of mountains,
a son of Wadowice,
he walked paths shaped by war,
his homeland heavy with silence.

A student of the sacred and the human,
he whispered prayers in the forests,
hiding from forces that crushed
what they could not understand.

A shepherd of words and faith
his voice rose where walls divided,
a steady hand,
guiding souls toward a greater light.

He carried the weight of the world's sorrows,
a pilgrim in white,
his steps echoing through cities,
through deserts,
through broken hearts.

The assassin's bullet found him,
but grace held him steady;
his forgiveness an unshaken shield,
his life, a testament to mercy.

In Rome, he stood as a rock,
unwavering in the storms of time,
a bridge between centuries,
between faith and the yearning of millions.

Even as his body bent under years,
his spirit stood tall,
a beacon in the night,
until silence embraced him,
and the world mourned a man
who never ceased to believe.