Wedding Poem

Jewish Prayer for St. Francis

From his big bulky pockets,
he gave away everything he owned.
They laughed at him
before he found his purpose.
He prayed for that — a sense of purpose.

Go and repair My house, he heard, it is falling into ruins.
He sat with the lepers, changing their bandages one by one.
He gave everything away.
He had nothing
and it was the very thing everyone needed.

The Kingdom of Heaven is upon us, he heard,
he began to preach repentance.
There were eleven of them within a year.
Clare heard him in Asissi.
The little brothers walked the mountains around Umbria,

that’s where I saw them,
just outside Spello.
I was sitting with Francesca
by her grove of olive trees.
She pointed up at the mountains behind Asissi.
I had just told her about the Mystical Bride,
a Queen we welcome every Friday night
who brings the quiet presence of Godliness.

She comes looking for us every Friday evening
when the sun goes down
for the sacred wedding.

Yes, Francesca said, it’s like San Francesco,
I see him walking there in the evening.

Francesca pointed toward the mountains behind Assisi,
Look — his goats.
It was just the time when he appears,
between the suns.

We were gazing up towards the mountains
as the sun began to find its way home in the west.
I then told her about the Jewish legend —

I then told her about the Jewish legend –
every week we wait for her
The Bride, the Queen
authenticating the week
we wait –
without her we cannot endure.

Where is she when we need her, sighed Francesca.

She is coming — I said.

Like San Francesco,
she cocked her head toward the mountains
while the sun went down
we sat, waiting.

I sang a wedding poem
Come my beloved,
let us greet the Bride.


jsg, usa