Darkness - Mother Teresa

I am a small ugly woman whom God, for reasons known only to him, decided to persecute with holiness. I have attempted to lose myself all my life, but he who never forgets held mirrors up everywhere I turned. Now I’ve died and they have found the “darkness” I knew since Calcutta, the absence that sat like an ugly child on my chest. I became their narrow fingers reaching out from filth, their stench no water could rinse away, their deaths held too tightly for too long. I became their blank eyes and finally saw everything. Yet I knelt beside them dry-eyed and tireless. I prayed when I had nothing left but word