banished and feared. you walked untouched among people. the villagers ready to greet you with clubs, spikes and spears. your grey fur catching the remnant-cold of country rain as you hide among cliffs. bruised by hunger, you wonder why created order became so cruel when you merely hunted what you sought and ate what you could. the fire people threatened the forest with greater rage. the growl hides your helplessness. your cornered curl of lips and sharp jawed inner pain.
one day, a brown man came. browned by the sun and earth, his garments a torn reflection of God-given joyful poverty. francis his name. francis, a name bearing the scent of pine and humble humid soil, in letters so near to Christ's. he bent low, those eyes you can't forget. utter trust. a freeing vulnerability before Creator-Lord who brought us into being. a simple heart that reaches out to your own. unafraid. he stayed the night with me. metres away. humble lowly francis couched among the trees, praying. smiling from a distance as he looked into me. renaming my savagery.
the villagers departed that day, content to let me be. i was only a fractured reflection of their own absence, abusive cruelty. francis came back and touched me. and i licked his warm calloused hand. the morning light bearing grace. presence of life made whole. i ran back to the far forests of my food and dream. and looked back one final time and saw one villager with francis. the browned friar always knew. he turned and blessed my name.
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----from the life of st francis of assisi (1182-1226)
www.conservation.catholic.org/st_francis_of_assisi.html
water-colour paintings by kieran choy, singapore. first icon from website.
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