The Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia

Life’s seamless robe
Rent with cavernous holes
Of hate and fear;
Torn by bombs
That turn to rubble
The warp and woof
Of lives;
Ripped by whispers that shred
With caustic tears
The threads that love once wove
And leave behind a world
In tatters.

And then  .  .  .
Amid the tatters and the tears,
The threads and shreds
Of what had been,
My Weaver-God sees hope
And images of what still can be.
Begins with tender care
To gather up the tattered remnants of our lives,
To spin and weave once more
A world where Love can live,
To fashion into simple swaddling clothes
A garment that will warm
An infant God
And wrap a world grown cold
In seamless love
Incarnate.