Like many European towns, Assisi was built on a steep hill. Of course, Assisi is famous for its association with St. Francis, revered as a saint who cared for the poor and vulnerable. Some years ago, we visited Assisi, and climbed its steep hill. I will always remember the image of the older women of the town, sweeping the walkways in front of their homes and shops. Many were dressed in widow's black, moving slowly and steadily, in spite of their advancing age. This song is inspired by those endearing women and the lives they led.
Lyrics
The Widows of Assisi
The widows of Assisi sweep the porches and the street
Honoring the doorways to their homes
In their dresses long and black that reach down to their feet
They sweep each day like verses in a poem
And the widows of Assisi slowly climb the hill
When they hear the bells of Francis call them in
With movements sure and holy they brace themselves to kneel
And ask to be forgiven for their sins
The widows of Assisi outlived their stalwart men
Who toiled out in the valley down below
And each day that passes they sweep their steps again
And they would want their men to always know
That their love has never faded like their vestments of black
As their brooms sweep the steps up to their door
Their grey hair long and braided flowing down their backs
Like their mothers and their mothers there before
On this hill that is Assisi, people crowd the streets
Taking pictures of the church that bears the name
Of the Saint who loved the poor in his cassock and bare feet
Will you bless the ones who start each day the same?
Sweeping their porches, sweeping the street
Honoring the doorways to their homes
In their dresses long and black that reach down to their feet
They sweep each day like verses in a poem
On the hill that holds Assisi, the pilgrims come each day
Knowing their dear Francis always cares
For the lives that are not easy, so the pilgrims always say
“We hope dear Francis listens to our prayers”
They know that Francis loves all creatures great and small
And Mother Earth who yields our daily bread
We love those aging widows who take care of it all
Just the way dear Francis would have said
So the widows of Assisi sweep the porches and the street
Honoring the doorway to their homes
In their dresses long and black that reach down to their feet
They sweep each day like verses in a poem
Sweeping the ancient cobble stone
Dear widows, know you’re not alone
© Gary Poole 2023