The Stigmata of St. Francis

The Stigmata of St. Francis

Seraph-spread wings

And the wings of the tree

Branches like outstretched arms

And hands pinioned, punctured

The taste of honey and vinegar

Agony and Ecstasy

Rough-wool clad

Naked unto God

Seraph-sealed lips

And the eyes grown dim

The cut and crux of Man

Flesh and blood and bone

Caught in rapture and rupture

Divine incarnate call

The leper’s kiss

The sultan’s embrace

The outcast and enemy

Made one in this body

An icon of Christ

Lift high the cross of mourning

And the rising sun unseen

For God has left a letter

Words written in wounds

Ruby red and running out

Love unto death, the prophet’s song

And Nature’s symphony

He will draw all Men to Himself

For death is trampled down by death

And in dying we are born to eternity

Francis, build My House!

Take My body from the tree

And be My body now!

Leave the playhouse, join the feast!

Original Poetry