The Porziuncola

The day I left for Rome was the day of forgiveness at the Porziuncola in honor of Saint Francis of Assisi. Because of the importance he has in my life and the day of forgiveness I share with you a poem I wrote several years ago after my first visit to Assisi.

 In the valley below Assisi there is the Basilica Santa Maria degli Angeli. This basilica houses the original chapel of San Francesco called the Porziuncola. This is a very sacred place where Christians from all over the world make a pilgrimage to pay respects to Saint Francis of Assisi. God spoke to me clearly outside of this holy place and I have never been the same since that moment.

*The photo I took in a olive grove above the basilica. You can see the basilica in the background*

The Porziuncola

Grandeur was not what made this tiny church the most beautiful I had ever seen. It was in fact its simplicity, alive with careful loving artistry.

Its loving artistry and simplicity was not its reason nor its only content

I respectively crossed forehead to chest, shoulder to shoulder and quietly entered

I placed my hand on the doorway, like so many before me had.

I felt their touch, their lives

My breath changed at the door

Softer, slower, deeper

Haaaaaaaaaahh

I felt myself let go of the life I had and leave it outside this house of prayer

I allowed myself to feel what this place meant to so many, past, present and future

There was but one prayer bench sitting empty

As I knelt the creaking of the old wood did not seem to change anyone’s focus

Such a presence, like the warmth of day, like safety

I felt a part of the others around me, all of us kneeling in humility

Some of us bowed and some looking to the cross

I began to lose all that was around me; this place had so much more to offer than priceless artwork

I was being drawn into its purpose

The space glowed, not just from the candles or the sunlight outside the walls

It had a heart…..and a beat

The rhythm of it was soft but strong

A sweet sent like perfume rose from the room

But it was not meant for our nose, but for HIS!

Each of us in our rhythm with the rhythm maker

Each of us connected to HIM

Connected to our history

Connected to one another in this rhythm

So many prayers had risen from this sacred place to the heavens

These walls so long exposed to the perfume of prayer, the perfume of humility…. the scent of it permeated everything within and I could feel it permeating me

I allowed it as I fell into my place, a place of comfort, acceptance and vulnerability

I cried out silently as did all of us……I cried out “Abba Father, Have Mercy”!

Soon, I allowed myself to look up at the frescos on the wall

Telling the stories of our Faith

Telling of THE ONE, of His Son, of Our Comforter and of a servant

This meek and humble servant who changed the world

And now here I prayed in his chapel

Worshiping as he did in this holy place

All of us crying out as one, not making a sound

In rhythm, softly, quietly making a perfume for THE ONE!

Because a servant said so many years ago……..Yes Lord!