Reflections from Assisi

"Ciao Francesco"

Ciao Francesco of Assisi
whose bloody footprints in winter
(like carnelians cast upon snow)
can still disrupt Assisi...

Ciao Francesco of the Porziuncola
that blessed door too narrow
for me to enter, but led by you
I asked three things...

Ciao Francesco of San Damiano
who led me along that same
road of renunciation
(while the silver olive trees wept)
and showed me that we
leave all our fathers...

Ciao Francesco of the Carceri
whose food was to do the
will of God, and when I saw this-too true-I ran
all the way down Mt. Subasio...

Ciao Francesco of the Chiesa Nuova
your lively friar-son showed me
the prison where your father
tried to keep you and then
sensing my sins he let down
his cape for me to walk on
-this still hurts...

Ciao Francesco who fought the devils
and guarded my own room with
Leo's cherished blessing-while the
shutters rattled from the nightmare
howls, and the dark dreams
threatened to turn me back...

Ciao Francesco of La Verna
(my dearest home)
you climbed those rocks
to bemoan your sins and
left that mountain so transfigured,
so holy, that in that place
I could scarcely breathe...

Ciao Francesco of the Basilica
your body is the Feast
of Fools,
parades, endless masses, cameras, dances,
songs, candles, and those weeping
because they have put you so high,
we can't even touch you
for healing anymore...

Ciao Francesco wounded-winter light
you are stricken with love
by God's smallest creatures...

Ciao Francesco of the Via Crucis
winter in Assisi is more harsh, silent
and bitter than I ever imagined,
and as I complained and nagged you
for comfort, you walked with me,
(like Jesus at Emmaus, wounds aglow)
and taught me the grace of
compassion...

Ciao Francesco of Assisi,
guide books, tapestries, and paintings
say you are dead,
but you still lead
the angels in song at the Bronx Little Portion.

"Ciao Chiara"

Ciao Chiara of San Damiano
you led me up stone stairs
to the upper room and unbolted
the door to ancient visions,
and showed me how love
and the Holy Eucharist put invaders to flight...

Ciao Chiara, Lady Poverty,
you are on display as some
venerable mummy;
your skeleton still observing
stark humilty and holy poverty...

Ciao Chiara who cried the Passion
every day (hope against hope)
and who bathed our father's
wounds and kissed them when
he went Home...

Ciao Chiara di Favarone
the Spirit hovers in the mist
outside your basilica and
sits like manna on the olive trees
and the Spirit and the Bride say:
"God is enough."

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• Icons by Fr. William McNichols

• Information on obtaining Icons by Fr. William McNichols

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This page is managed by Fr. Raymond A. Bucko, S.J. of the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Creighton University. E-Mail: bucko@creighton.edu Page Last Updated: December 1, 2001

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