They Say I’m A Fool
By Fiza Pathan
They say I’m a fool to have followed you
Leaving my mansion and earthly goods.
They say I’m a fool to wish that I,
Could be so poor just like you.
They say I’m a fool to ask for your love
When it’s true that your affection is for heaven
And mine, is only for you and our heavenly groom.
They say I’m a fool to starve myself
On crusts of stale bread and mud.
But I’ll do anything to be
As pure as the moon.
They say I’m a fool to weep
When I see your scarred hands
And your bleeding side,
Taking away your youth ever so soon.
They say I’m a fool to cloister myself in poverty
Lurking over the words of grace
Where the road to Calvary looms.
They say I’m a fool to have
Cut off my long golden hair
To be used as an offering to a pyre
That was blessed by your hands that warm night in June.
They say I’m a fool to whip myself
When I saw the puss blind away your sight
Though for you, it was a sort of heavenly boon.
But dearest Francesco, let them say what they may
For in my eyes there is only one red rose in bloom
Which bleeds forever all days and nights,
Up in this small cloister…..your Clara so poor.
p.s. This poem is dedicated to Saint Francis of Assisi
and his saintly counterpart Saint Clara of Assisi
who followed in Saint Francis’ footsteps
of holy poverty, holy chastity and holy obedience