His first lady her, poor for sure,
walks patient seeking friends again, lonely she,
Francis knew her Truth,
Jesus and His Mother steeped in her, so pure.
He moved from plenty to her to belong to only God,
thus he fled the wordly world all others embraced,
while he clung to poverty,
and on all lesser things trod.
Spurned today the lady is, though once named best,
a rich man began her gospel story when he said "No" due to a purse, and
worse left, and thus leaving bitter, could he ever convert,
his soul yearnings cleft at the Master's request.
Second still, forth among many the lady danced,
she ordered by Jesus to be sheltered without staff, or food, or money,
just walk free He said, and they did,
though she would not stay forever so romanced.
So in time Francis found her wandering,
and to himself bound her to those who chose his way
and said their own best 'yes' to her stay;
sown for all through he, but today again wandering.
And then, the lady in the world for all,
gentle may she be embraced in things avoided,
denial by name and crosses of life presiding,
accepted pain, for He who on a crossed tree answered her, one with His,
though also now our, final call.
Brother Not, sfo