St. Francis and the Wolf by Christine Valters Paintner
“The city trembled at the wolf
outside its gates, fangs
fierce, howling with hunger,
fur thick with blood.
Francis approaches softly,
palms open. When the wolf lunges
his breath stays slow and steady,
looks with eyes of love,
smiles and bows
and the beast whimpers,
licks the monk’s salty face,
tail a brown banner waving,
and follows Francis
through the streets
like an old friend,
to the wonder of all.
Except perhaps it’s not
such a wonder that
when we open the gate
to all that is fierce
and fearful inside us,
when we hold our hands
like begging bowls,
our hearts like candles,
the wolf within will want
to lay its soft head
upon our laps and we see
there is no more wolf and me
just one wild love,
one wild hunger.”
King Edward Street Chapel 