San Damiano
"One day in the church of St.
Damian, he (St. Francis) hears
words spoken from the Crucifix:
'Go, Francis, and repair my
house; as you can see, it is
falling into ruin."
- Fr. Stanislaus Majarelli, OFM
The roses are in bloom at San Damiano.
Their scent bleeds into the air,
flows down from the hills,
floods the streets of Assisi
like the beggars who cry,
"Bread and stones,
bread and stones.''
In the shadowy cafe,
men sit
hearing to the calls.
One man spits and mutters a curse.
Another man begins a bawdy song
that pours out
into the darkening air.
At midnight: Silence.
Fog shrouds the streets
and snakes into the hills.
The hills rise above the fog
like islands in a dead sea.
And taller still
rises
San Damiano's half-built steeple
reaching toward
heaven.
"One day in the church of St.
Damian, he (St. Francis) hears
words spoken from the Crucifix:
'Go, Francis, and repair my
house; as you can see, it is
falling into ruin."
- Fr. Stanislaus Majarelli, OFM
The roses are in bloom at San Damiano.
Their scent bleeds into the air,
flows down from the hills,
floods the streets of Assisi
like the beggars who cry,
"Bread and stones,
bread and stones.''
In the shadowy cafe,
men sit
hearing to the calls.
One man spits and mutters a curse.
Another man begins a bawdy song
that pours out
into the darkening air.
At midnight: Silence.
Fog shrouds the streets
and snakes into the hills.
The hills rise above the fog
like islands in a dead sea.
And taller still
rises
San Damiano's half-built steeple
reaching toward
heaven.
Pax et bonum
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