Poem - even unto death

brother of st francis to the center
of a town that hated him
to be humiliated

the citizens freely and enjoyed
abusing the man and beat him
screamed and spat

the brother went back day after day
for more abuse from the people
how easily did he fare

for in all of us are crimes and deeds
we have done to ourselves
and we have inflicted

we acting out of self-admiration
with spite or amusement
even relish

even unto death

a juniper tree bends under a storm
is greener and is thankful
for such punishment

indirectly shields weaker things
by being upright and easy
giving but not breaking


___

for Fra Ginepro

St. Francisco in the Park

I'm in Scofield Park, past the war monument. Looking for Lao Tzu, I see, of all persons, St. Francis of Assisi.

"Hello Francisco."

St. Francis smiles, and motions me to sit on the bench. He is so sweet, so childlike, insisting on holding my hand as the wind blows autumn's leftover leaves higher and higher, towards the green line.

Soon, many birds are all around us, then they are sitting on us, chirping and nibbling on St. Francisco's robe. People are curious, but we are so peaceful, they don't interrupt.

We see Lao Tzu walking up the street, into the park, and up the hill where we sit. St. Francis gets up, saying goodbye to me with his eyes. He and Lao Tzu depart like the two dear freinds they have always been.