Francesco
written by: TM Arko
@terry.arko
You were a soldier
Wearing your death mask of silver and gold
Adorned in armor and mail
Fighting for the cross of Christ
You were young
Arrogant
Riding to war with head held high
On a pure white steed
With your crusaders lance and shield
Pushed to killing by
The old religious curmudgeons
Behind their walls of hypocrisy
You faced the heathens
In their godless filth
With mud on the shanks of your war horse
You were wounded and filled with a fever
That sent you back home
Where the demons of war and dogma
Tormented your mind
And afflicted your body
Your blessed mother cooled your forehead
With holy water
While she sang you a tune of comfort
The love that was all around you
Your soul awakened
To the tiny sparrow’s song as
You arose
To dream in the flower fields
Among the shadows and the creatures
Both great and small
The wind your brother
The air your sister
Beneath the sun and the moon
You conversed with your Creator
And faced the unclean
The afflicted
The outcast lepers
You threw your fine linens out of the window
You abandoned your silver and gold
To walk barefoot in the snow
To build a house of love for the neglected
You begged for the stones and
Sang songs for your bread
The soot of the street stained your heels
You shaved your head
And wore rough clothes
While you walked the desert
Seeking the holiness
Of being alone
Fighting against the darkness
And the ornately religious
You made a kingdom of love
Where both the fawn and wolf could lay
As one
With the poor and the downtrodden
You carried the wounds of your Savior
The passion that consumed you
The high and mighty came down from their thrones
And kissed your blistered feet
The spirit shined through your beaten body
Like diamonds in the gentle stream
Of complete light that flowed
From your saddened redeemed eyes
You left us with a blessing
To be instruments of His peace
To console the inconsolable
To love the unloved
And always giving rather than receiving
Then at last upon your deathbed
With the animals and your followers gathered around
You showed us in your dying
That everyone is born
To eternal life
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
May we all become beings of love and instruments of peace.
- The Pain That Revisits - April 25, 2019
- On Atara Street - April 2, 2019
- What Vincent Would Paint - March 11, 2019
