Francis, Your Wholeness
Haunts A Broken World.
Centuries Ago – You Heard
The Windsong Of The Spirit
Wrinkle Gentle Music
Through The Stillness Of Your Being.
You Danced Its Patterned Rhythms
Every Moment Of Your Life.
You Splashed Your Laughteragainst The Summits
Of Wealth And Aristocracy
And With It Transparent Freshness.
You Cleansed The Leper,
Forgave The Robber,
Freed The Peasant Poor.
You Torched A Mediocre Church Into Flame—
Seasoned Wood Caught Fire,
And The Fire Burned,
And The Fire Spread,
And The Fire Enveloped The Earth.

Today, Francis—
Breathe Your Benediction
On This Crmbling Clay;
Crushed, Crippled, Wounded,
It Desires To Dance.
Anoint With Peace And Goodness
The Fragile Fragments Of Peace And Justice
Struggling To Be Reborn In This Weary World—
It Seeks To Laugh.
Bond Your Courage
Tothe Stumbling Steps Of This Pilgrim People.
Burn The Power Of Your Fidelity
Into The Potter’s Clay—
The Fire Is Ready.
Margaret Halaska, osf