Saint Francis and the Sow

The bud
stands for all things,
Even for those things that don’t flower,
For everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
Though sometimes it is necessary
To reteach a thing its loveliness,
To put a hand on its brow
Of the flower
And retell it in words and in touch
It is lovely
Until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
As Saint Francis put his hand on the creased forehead
Of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
Blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
Began remembering all down her thick length,
From the earthen snout all the way
Through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of
The tail,
From the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
Down through the great broken heart
To the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting
And shuddering
From the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths suckling
And blowing beneath them:
The love, perfect loveliness of sow.

–Poem used by Anne Lamott “Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith” (New York: Riverhead Books, 2007), pp. 47-48.

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Filed under Poems, Prayers from Taizé

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