Author's Note: Several years ago, I was asked by the Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross, whose Motherhouse is in Bay Settlement on the eastern side of the Green Bay, to offer reflections on the Canticle of the Creatures by St. Francis. I shared the reflections during an evening gathering that the good sisters call "Silence and Sunset". After a recent call from the community for a copy of the talk, I decided that I would post them as a series in Embers over the next few weeks. I highly encourage you to read St Francis' poem as a foundation, and consider these 'companion pieces' to help you reflect more deeply on what the good Saint has to tell us.
Sister Bodily Death
Companion
from before first breath, she casts no shadow, yet is as close to me always as
my own shadow.
She is not
jealous and she is most willing to delight in the observance of life.
She is
patient, graciously allowing whatever days are cast.
She seeks no
place of honor for herself; she knows that all honor belongs not to the end of
all, but to the Creator, the source of all.
She is kind
and does not delight in her task, nor is she in conflict; she bows to the Power
of Life.
She touches
each soul, but holds onto none. She is but
a passageway, from mortal to immortality and is ever open to the Will that
desires to draw all things to Himself.
She is
imaged in each wave that washes up on the beach, breaking loudly and then
saturating quietly, even silently into the sand.
She is
imaged in each dawn that yields to day, that yields to twilight, that yields to
darkness, that yields to each dawn.
She is
imaged in the seasons that meld into each other in the seemingly endless cycle
of time spinning forward, seemingly ever forward.
She is glimpsed
but once in each lifetime of each creature.
She appears
to be everlasting, yet is the most fleeting of all.
She appears
to hold fast, and yet is release itself.
She appears hopeless, yet is the fulfillment of all hope.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Kevin Gent on Unsplash
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