I can't seem to stop writing poetry or reading poetry. I think it is safe to say I love poetry and I love sharing great poetry with others.
Letters Between Francis and Clare
Again my words not large or small enough.
I think about you every evening.
I put to bed non-spiritual stuff
a time I put away everything.
Our love, though true to heart of inner path,
is based upon our faith as our hearts sing.
Where once a garden from a mustard seed
has hardened into marble with our need.
When Francis talked to Christ in Cathedral
of San Damiano, “Francis my church?”
The fabric of his father sold in Fall
a beginning when God starts a search
in faith behind our love, behind our call
sits patiently like bird upon its perch.
Between his prayers and preaching to the poor
he threw his life onto piles on the floor.
Ours is a true relationship, Francis,
we have no secrets hidden in between
to fall in love again without a kiss
our spirits higher then they’ve ever been
our hearts and minds are open to God’s bliss
to forgive each other in times of sin
to know our prayers are for the common good
we try to be "one” light as we all should.
The first time I saw you sit still to preach
I found the one who also knew to pray
our communities always in our reach
and dedicate to service everyday
right now the “Poor Clares” spread their arms to teach
these poems kindness will always display
to share the tenderness in practical
routines of the poor and the miserable.
And you Francis? How are you doing now?
Your ministry is a display of pain
they do not understand your sacred vow
that suffering enhances with the strain
a quiet time when talks with God allow
the message that we keep our lives as plain
like wheat without the rain in fields of brown
that all of us together make the town.
I do not care if you were once noble
I only care that you are by my side
and our belief in God is immobile
our spirits held by light skillfully tied
the Holy Spirit here to ennoble
our serious prayers silently cried
let both of us stand and take others sins
and hold our tears as time of love begins.
© 2020 Jamie Lee Hamann