"When I was hungry, I know you would have fed me if you knew where I was. But you didn't know me. How could you know me? You never held and fed a baby like me before. You never held a baby too hungry to cry.
"When I was lonely, you didn't know where I was. I lived in a dangerous place. I know you are afraid to go where I live. It's not safe where I live.
"When I was sick, you thought the doctors and hospitals wouldn't turn me away. How could you know?
"When I was homeless, you gave me some money, and I felt your prayers. But you couldn't have known the terror in that shelter and why I stayed on the street. You didn't know that I was sick — that I saw demons but they were real. How could you know? We never talked.
"When I lost my little girl because we had no money for medicine, you didn't know what I needed. You didn't know where we were. We lived so far from you. They call it the Third World.
"When I sent my boy to sell lottery tickets, you didn't know us. You didn't know I wanted him to go to school but I needed his earnings for food. We were so far away from you. We spoke in a foreign tongue. How could you know us?
"You didn't know why my boy didn't come home that night. We knew. His father took his money and bought alcohol and beat him so many times. He stayed in the streets and never came back to me. How could you have known he didn't come home?
"You didn't know how the kids live on the street — and what the older ones and the men do to the little ones. And you didn't know about the drugs. How could you? You didn't know that I am with those boys too, and they do it to me. But how could you know?
"When I pleaded for fair wages, they tortured me. We made your clothes. But you didn't know who we were. You didn't know what they did to those of us who spoke for fair wages and safe conditions. How could you know how far they'd go?
"When I gathered your food and got sick from the chemicals, you couldn't know. You didn't know what the chemicals did to our children. You didn't know of the nightmares they caused. How could you know? You never gathered foods from the fields. You never touched or smelled the chemicals.
"Did you know that my children work in the garbage? They collect paper and bottles and cans. And they sell them so we can eat. It's so dangerous there. Surely you don't know of the dangers — of the gas explosions and fires, of the chemicals and disease. But what can I do? I have no other way to feed my children. But you didn't know.
"When we spoke for our land, our ancestors' land, they slaughtered us. They mutilated and tortured me so many times in so many ways. They smashed my children against the rocks. They raped and killed my wife and daughters. They did it for the land owners who sell you your food. They did it to me. But how could you know what they did? It wasn't on the news. None of your friends could tell you. We live so far from you.
"You were so busy. You had your children. You rocked them and sang to them and helped them with their homework and read them stories and tucked them in and taught them to pray. You took them to soccer practice and baseball games, to dance classes and music lessons. You were so busy.
"You worshiped me often. You met with your friends and talked of your love for me. I heard your love songs. And I heard your praise and thanks. You thought I was in heaven. That's what they told you. You just didn't know.
You worked so hard. I know it wasn't easy. They'd fire you so quickly. So you had to work hard to provide for your family. I know you were afraid.
"But you shouldn't have feared. I sent you food from the fields so you wouldn't go hungry. I sent you your clothes, and I sent you my love. Even when you didn't know it or believe it, I loved you always.
"When you smashed my baby against the rocks, you didn't know it was me. You were so afraid of the sergeant. You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to kill me. He said he'd kill you if you didn't do it. You were so afraid.
"When you took my money for alcohol and beat me, you didn't know that I'd go to the streets and never come home. You didn't know what they'd do to me. I know you loved me. You just didn't know how much I loved you.
"And when I needed money for my daughter's medicine, I know you would have bought it for her, if only you knew where we were.
"I loved you when I was hungry and you had extra food. I know you would have fed me if you could — if you saw me, if you held me. I'm sure you wouldn't have left me to starve, if you knew who I was.
"If only you knew. I come to you through the children. I come a million times a day. But look what is done to me. I'm hungry and sick, beaten and abandoned. I'm tortured and mutilated, abused and battered.
"I'm waiting in the children. Can you hear me? Listen. I'm in your heart — your Sacred Heart. And you are always in my heart.
"Come to me. Come to the children. Don't be afraid. I'll mend your heart.
"Can you hear me? I love you. I love you. I love you. If only you knew."
