The Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia

God-love waits . . .
Patient,
Still,
Holding deep within her rich and womb-like soil of
Hope
The promise of a newer day . . .
A vision for the seeds that dare the dark
And risk the journey
Into God.

Tiny seed surrenders to the
Dark,
Secure in knowing that
Unknowing
Does not need to fear,
Listening
To the whispered secrets of a
Gentle God,
Trusting
That her journey into
Light
Begins with roots
That burrow in the
Heart of
Hope.

Nudged by nurturing
Darkness,
Drawn by unseen
Light
Fragile newness moves
Upward,
Outward,
And with gentle pressure on the
Womb of Earth
The slender stem is born,
Embraced and welcomed by the
Sun
And holding promise in its hidden roots.

And promise comes,
Held fast within each tightly fashioned
Bud,
Unfolded gently by the
Morning Sun.
And promise lives
In blossomed beauty that reflects its
Many-petaled God
And does not mourn the passing of its day
For blossoms born of
Hope
Know well their roots.

And God-love waits . . .