Clare

Clare
hidden in the shadows
of San Damiano,
spent her jars of
precious nard
witnessing to the
Passion.
Daily she recited what
Francis carried
after worm met seraph
in the cocoon of La Verna,
and was given
bloody wings,
to flutter and spatter
forgiveness
for two more years.
But she lived on
and on
and on
bereft
of the comfort
of communion
with her twin flame.
Did she long to
set the world afire
with her preaching?
This was not given.
Did she ache to part
with the convent garden
and bear the Child
and Master Healer
into the world?
This was not given.
Hers was the "better part"
(Francis must have consoled
her again and again).
She was to sit
at the Lord's feet,
at the foot of His Cross,
drinking in
every word and sigh.
She was the
enduring oil lamp,
now eternal flame.
She was the seed
fallen to the ground
of her own
cloister garden,
blossoming sturdy
and now
evergreen.

---

• Icons by Fr. William McNichols

• Information on obtaining Icons by Fr. William McNichols

---

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

---