A statue of St. Claire, Photograph by Cat Vibert
Visions of Sister Moon:An entirely fictional and imagined correspondence between Claire and Francis of Assisi
I have put all the parts on one page to make it easier for the first time reader. If you would prefer to get to each individual part, click below to the chapter of your choice:
My dear Francis, my soliel de frére,
I woke again with another vision. They are coming every night now. In my vision all of the people of our world were standing by the shore of a lake, and they were unclothed. The water was brown and the people could not drink it. There was a man dressed in vestments and holding a scepter and shouting to the people that he would take care of them, that he spoke for God. They were shivering in cold, and kneeling before the man. Their bones showed through their skin. One of the women brought a dead child and lay it down in front of the man and he stepped upon it and shoved the woman away, shouting to the people to kneel and pray in front of Our Lord. As in the other visions, an army of birds descended from the South. A raptor swooped down and with his talons extended, he took off the vestments of the man. Another raptor took the man’s scepter. The man was standing naked and the rest of the birds descended, circling the man and lifting him high into the air, they dropped him into the masses. The people began to rip him apart, tearing off his limbs, the faces of the people looked to be possessed by demons.
Just then a deer appeared from the North and walked into the middle of the crowd. But he was not just a deer, he was golden and grand, his antlers were perfectly formed, and did not look to have ever been used to fight in battle. He walked into the middle of the crowd and up to where the people had torn apart the man. He bent down and licked the man, looking at him with such a compassion that I could feel my heart aching to watch. A tear fell out of his eye, and the tear was a diamond. The man was healed in body, but did not wake, and then he ascended, his entire body lifted into the sky and he was gone.
The deer then turned to the people and looked at them with the same eye of compassion, another tear fell as a diamond, and dropped into the lake and the lake became pure. The people gathered around the deer and kneeled, and then the birds returned, circling around in the sky above the deer and the crowd. The deer began to walk toward the East, the birds above him leading the way. The people rose, drank from the lake, and then followed, walking in a deep peace behind the deer, and as they walked, they regained health. When I woke, three bluebirds were at my window.
Oh Francis my love, I fear that you will not accomplish your mission by going West to Rome and I beg you not to go. It is not a holy place and the Pope does not speak for God. God speaks through the animals, through the trees, through the birds and the wind, not through a single man, not through a book. God does not condone violence, or riches of absurd grandeur. You have more of the essence of God in your eyelash than does the entire church, I beg you to see that holiness, and to stay and not leave this land, not leave me, to chase an impossible dream. To have the Pope’s blessing? What will that give you? Give us? Everything we need is right here. The animals need tending, I need your love, please stay.
Your beloved, Claire de lune
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Chapter 2
Canticle of the Saint Francis of Assisi” (Giovanni Bernardone, 1181-1226)
My Clair de Lune,
By the time you receive this I will be well on my way to Rome. And while I agree with you as to the structure of holiness of the church, surely you understand the political nature of things. The church’s blessing is required in order to provide the funds necessary to establish the new order. If we receive it, it will be a blessing to our community, which as you know, is sorely lacking in its relationship to Our Lord. I tell you this to provide you with comfort and assurance. I too have had visions, and I continue to be led by them to not cower before the majesty of the church, but to be humble and ask for what is needed for the good of Assisi and of the new order. Assisi is to become a symbol for the future of all Christianity. A day will come when our work with the animals and the land will be recognized by the peoples of the entire world as a potent reminder of our purpose as stewards in Our Lord’s dominion. You need not worry, I will not be corrupted by the grandeur of things. I will always wear only this simple brown cloth that you have woven for me, which in itself is the richest vestment any man could want.
As to your vision, your sight is an astounding revelation. It is as clear to me as daylight shines its glorious light that you are indeed a bride to Our Lord. My Claire who has visions under the light of the moon, the deer in your sight is a clear symbol that Our Lord has entered your visions and speaks through them, for only Our Lord can cast away demons while invoking compassion. The water in the lake is the state of piety, as you know, the lack of piety has caused such horrors, and people are being led astray by claims of golden redemption. Only tears of compassion and forgiveness can bring the people back to walk in the true path of Our Lord. When that happens, and the people drink of those tears, they will once again follow.
When I return from Rome, my dear Claire, I ask you to allow me to receive you as a bride to Our Lord. As to the conversation we had in regards to marriage the night we walked under the stars and dreamed of a home to tend the animals, I maintain that my love for you is as full as any heart can hold, but that is because you are so full of Our Lord. We must never sully that love with earthly desires but must dedicate our lives together to serve Our Lord. Only you will ever know how close my heart came to choosing an earthly wedding to you over the establishment of the new order. My confused prayers have been answered with visions, and I must obey Our Lord. But Claire, I need you by my side always, and so I ask you again, to take the holy vows. Keep watch to your visions, you will find an answer there.
I will see you upon my return, and pray that you will keep safe. Pray for our success. I am accompanied by eleven of my companions, and I do not think that any ill can befall us with the likes of them nearby. Oh, lest I forget mon Claire, you would be amused to see the number of birds that have flocked to us and have joined us on our journey. I have been feeding them. They have voracious appetites and so I imagine would follow even a devil if he carried a seed bag. But you, my frail moon, you must keep care to stay pure as the light you are. Until I return my love.
My love to you through the heart of Our Lord,
Francis
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Chapter 3
St. Claire meets the Dark Mother by Cat Vibert
Interlude
In solitude she walks under the moon
Yet prays to Francis’ God as she steps forth
She veils herself to keep from wanton swoon
And keeps her eyes downcast to avert mirth
Her visions have gone black as raven’s night
She sees but naught an answer to her prayers
She’s taken to the hills on dreams of flight
For to escape the mills of town nay-sayers
Yet there, upon the bluff, a woman sits
No face has she, but shines as dark as night
A child she holds to suckle at her teets
No doubt but sure this child is pure as light
The darkened mother’s mask disputes despair
Or so her light, as moon, appeared to Claire
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Chapter 4
St. Claire saving a child from a wolf. By Giovanni di Paolo (circa 1455)
Oh Francis, it pains me to attempt to explain my thoughts to you. Indeed I am not certain I will deliver this letter to you upon your return, but must record what I have seen. I must write for the sake of understanding my own thoughts, and so I begin.
For such a time after you left for Rome, I was distraught with sadness. I felt a great shame that I caused you to consider straying from the true path that was revealed to you in your visions. I do not know how to separate my desires to know you as a wife from the holy tryst you ask of me in becoming a bride to Our Lord. I have never known a possession such that every room in the house of my thoughts would be filled with your image, leaving no space for contemplation of Our Lord’s will. Indeed until this morning’s vision my night dreams were filled with a blackness such that not a sliver of moon was present to guide my sight. Only when I woke, I would be filled again with thoughts of you, of that night we walked under the stars. Remembering the touch of your warm breath upon my lips. So close were mine, that night, to lips I yearn for, yet shall never know the taste of.
I have been wearing my wedding veil to ward off advances from your brother’s friends and the like. They jest when I pass, calling me sister moon the loon, then stating vulgar epitaphs. I seek refuge by walking the hills above the village in the afternoons, talking to the birds and squirrels I meet along the path. I kneel at times, along the way, to pray for Our Lord to enter my visions again, and to instill discipline to my thoughts.
Yesterday as I walked, I came upon a mother who was kneeling on the ground suckling her infant child. Her face was hidden behind a mask. What I could see of her skin was dark, and yet her child was fair as snow, with eyes that shone of gold. The woman was cackling like a crone. She asked me through her laughter, if I was afraid of her. I admit that I felt fear, a great fear, but of what I did not know. It was as if I was afraid of myself, it was not her presence that disturbed me. She told me I would see her again. I offered her the flowers I had collected on my walk and wished her well. I heard her cackle echoing through the hills as I walked back toward the village.
In the night, the moon was full and I gazed upon it as it rose in the East. I walked out to the meadow where I last felt your hand upon mine, and imagined you with me. I imagined the meeting of our lips. I know I should not let my thoughts linger in such forbidden places. I do not know how my feet managed to carry my legs home upon the formless structure they became in that imagined kiss. I managed to find my way to my bed, however, and upon falling asleep in the ray of moon that shined across my eyes, I had a vision. It began as the same vision that I have just described, I walked in the woods and came upon the same mother and child, and she asked me if I was afraid. I asked her to remove her mask, and she did. In her face, I saw you, and then your image melted away and I saw myself. I then saw her child being torn apart by wolves, and this image melted into a sea of blood, with mighty waves that dashed into rocks and cliffs, spraying blood high into the air. Then the storm calmed and her face again became a woman, beautiful with dark skin and golden eyes, like the eyes of her child, who was whole again within her arms.
She asked me to follow her, and stood, beckoning. There appeared a cave before us, and we entered and walked into the dark, feeling along the mossy walls until we came to an underground lake illuminated by a tiny candle. The woman then asked me to drink of the water. I drank, and she told me that the light was Our Lord and that she was his bride and her child was the church. I then woke to the shining sun and the sound of the village bell. I will think on the meaning of this vision today and write on it later.
Oh Francis, I do not ever think I will be able to give you this letter, but I give you my heart on wings.
All of my undying love,
Your beloved, Claire
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Chapter 5
Watercolor: Cardinal in the Cherry Blossoms by Cat Vibert
Oh Claire, mon Claire de lune,
I do not know if this letter will even reach you before I have arrived to tell you of these visions myself, but I feel compelled to write this, for posterity’s sake if nothing else. The news of my journey is that we were successful in our quest, and have received The Pope’s blessing to begin the new order. I am greatly relieved, although having now witnessed the grandeur of the center of the churches so called holiness in juxtaposition to the destitute poverty that surrounds its very gates, I can not but help to find irony contained within his blessing. However, I do feel led by a higher authority than The Pope himself. Even more so since I have received another vision that I will reveal in a moment. The only thing that keeps my sanity from breaking is that I have seen the future as Our Lord has revealed it to me, and I know that we must hold to the ways of the nature and simplicity at all costs. But I will speak to you of all this soon. The visions are the reason for this missive.
I do not usually pay as much heed to night visions as I do to the ones that are revealed to me while I am fully awake, though a dream came to me, Claire, which left me very disturbed, and I feel is related to the vision that came after.
The moon was full last night dear Claire, and I was restless under its light. I finally fell into a dream, but my body did not rest. I saw you alone in the meadow where we walked in the light of the last full moon. The moon shone upon your face and your skin radiated a light so pure that I was not certain I was beholding you, or an angel at the feet of Our Lord. Then a darkness came over the moon and you disappeared from my vision. I saw instead an old crone with lines, deep and etched in her face with the wisdom of many lifetimes. She asked me what I feared, but before I could answer she threw her head back and cackled in the most irreverent way, and then she disappeared. The light of the moon returned and with it came the sense of your presence although there was no form. I felt the touch of you on my lips, which burned like flames, and I was afraid. And then nothing but the sound of the crone’s laughter, which filled my body so full with its sound that I woke wet and shaking from the vibration.
In the quiet of the early morning, the sun not yet awake to rouse them, the moon shown brightly on the faces of my sleeping companions. I heard the owl call and walked down to the brook that was gurgling softly down the hillside near our camp. Still greatly disturbed from the dream, I knelt on the soft grass near the stream and began to drink the water. As I dipped my hands in the stream, I noticed the moon’s reflection in the water and began to stare into it. The light of its face turned red first, and then became the face of the old crone in the dream, and I was struck with fear. She was still laughing, although I could not hear the sound, and then she disappeared and again became the moon. Then the moon turned dark again and Our Lord appeared to me in robes not unlike my own, he was more radiant than a thousand moons. He looked to be so real that I could almost reach out and touch him. He was speaking to me and although the words had no meaning, a deep peace came over me.
The next part of the vision was grueling Claire, and it displeases me to reveal it, but I must tell you what I saw, as the vision had similar elements to so many of your own. A thousand raptors of every kind came from every direction of the Earth and ripped apart the body of Our Lord. They tore apart his flesh, Claire, and ripped out his eyes. I began to scream to the birds to stop, but they didn’t stop. They continued to rip him apart until all that remained of him was his heart. The raptors fled and a thousand more birds of every species and all colors came from every direction of the Earth and flocked on the ground around the still beating heart of Our Lord. Two bright red birds carefully picked up His Heart and brought it to me, gently placing it into my outstretched hands. When I looked down at the heart, the only thing in my hands was a red feather. I looked up and the birds were gone. Only Our Lord’s face was reflected in the water.
And then he spoke to me Claire, and I understood the words. I will try to write it exactly, I hope I succeed.
‘Francis, I have shown you what has happened to my body at the hands of the church, but you now carry my heart. You must carry my heart through the darkness Francis, and do not be afraid. My gift to you is that you will always know my heart through the voices of birds, and they will always recognize you as friend. But beware the raptors, Francis, they will never stop trying to take my heart. You will carry my burden Francis, and by the end of your days, I will take you with me, the way I was taken, so that all on Earth will truly know forever that you spent your days carrying my heart.’
Then I tried to speak to him Claire, but my throat could only utter bird sounds. He then smiled at me with such a love and compassion that my own heart melted, and I felt certain that the simple selfish heart that I carried in my chest was now replaced by Our Lord’s own Heart. I have never felt such a glowing warmth and a deep compassion for all people. And then the vision faded and only the moon was reflected in the stream.
Then without noticing the growing light, the sun streamed over the horizon and hid the light of the moon. Accompanying the symphony of sunlight were a thousand singing birds, Claire. And they surrounded me, and not for food, for I did not have any. Several of them landed on my shoulders, and as I write this, a wren is asleep nuzzled into my neck. I call him Secret, because that is what he says when he sings.
I will be home in less than a week’s time, and we will begin renovations on the chapel immediately. Oh, my poor Claire, it will be so good to see you again, although I feel a sense of shame that I have asked you to take the vows of marriage to Our Lord. I realize now that this is a burden that is too heavy for you to bear unless you have been called. You deserve a husband that can bring to you the satisfaction that only an Earthly marriage can bring. I know that you feel this desire, I can hear it in your very breath my Claire. Go, let your family find a match who will bring you this happiness.
I feel inclined to write so much more to you, but I have run out of parchment and would have to write on leaves. I will close now and enclose the red feather into this missive while sending you love in the Heart of Our Lord.
Francis
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Chapter 6
(can not find attribution as to the title or artist of this painting. We’ll call it ‘Claire gets her hair cut’ for now. If you know the attribution, please tell me and I will update.)
Francis, dear, mon soleil de frère,
You should receive this on the day of your arrival. I have had so many visions while you were away. And even my sister Agnes, she has been having visions. I received your letter yesterday and was taken aback that you have also been having visions of the old crone. I have had several visions of her now, and have tried to map the meaning of her presence there. Her presence always seems to be related to a darkness Francis, a darkness that I know I must reconcile with. A reconciliation that I believe may take a lifetime of prayer and contemplation.
I had a vision of Our Lord as well Francis, and have made my decision. In this vision Our Lord appeared to me on the path I have been walking in the hills above the village. He was dragging the cross and was bleeding from the thorns in his head. He asked me to take his burden Francis, and then he handed me the cross. I took the cross in my hands, but the weight of the cross was so heavy that I fell to the ground and lost consciousness. But then I had a dream, and the crone appeared to me again. I have not told you of the earlier visions of her, I believe they were meant for myself only, but I will confide this to you as I believe it was meant to be shared.
She stood over me as I lay upon the ground, and she was laughing at me. I woke and sat up to face her. I felt a great fear rise in me, yet stood upon my feet and put my hands on her shoulders. I asked her to please tell me what she wanted of me. Her presence has been so indirect and I felt drawn into a murky blackness. A blackness from all of the metaphor her visions have brought me, so many possible interpretations. I shook her and I begged her, my voice becoming shrill and piercing like a raptor. I implored to her, “Please, I am afraid and I do not know of what, reveal the darkness to me so that I may bring light to what impedes me.”
“You are living in a dream of romantic delusion, it is as if there are two of you,” she said and then laughed, and the sound of her laughter echoed and grew upon itself until I shook her again.
“Stop!” I begged her. “How do I purge this other self, this dreamer of delusion?”
And she looked deep into my eyes Francis, with great compassion. And in one eye was the sun, and in the other was the moon. She stared at me like this until the bodies merged into the shape of a heart. I dropped my hands from her shoulders and stood back. When my eyes regained focus on her face, it was the face of Our Lord as he stood holding the cross. Again he handed me the cross. Again I took it, but it was light as a feather. He spoke to me Francis and revealed this.
“You can not purge a part of the whole, Claire. You will carry the burden of my cross throughout your life. The burden is the shadow of darkness, but while others will swim unguided through this darkness, you now have the gift of clear seeing. You will be a clear light within the darkness you see both within and without. If ever you should feel overburdened, Claire, you will find the burden will grow light again by looking to the animals and plants that inhabit all of nature. Tend to them Claire, and learn their ways, renouncing collections of wealth and sentiment. As you bring light into this darkness by how you live your life in service, your body will prove to be a light for eons to come.”
And then he was gone, and I woke, and was lying on the ground.
I know now with certainty Francis, that I will happily take the vows of marriage to Our Lord, and ask that you receive my vows as soon as possible upon your return. I don’t wish for you to look upon me as a maiden any more. As a sacrifice of sentiment I ask that you will sheer my hair and I, like you, will wear a plain tunic and live a life of service, renouncing all wealth for the rest of my days.
In the Heart of Our Lord to whom I come as a bride,
Claire
©2010 Catherine Vibert
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Notes:
Clare of Assisi was ordained by Francis and his companions in the small chapel ‘Mary of the Angels’. She lived a life of radical poverty and established the order of Poor Clares, nuns who chose to live as she did. Two of her sisters also chose this path. Ultimately Clare became the abbess of San Damiano, which Francis had rebuilt with his own hands.
Toward the end of his life, Francis received the stigmata and as a result was ill and blinded. Clare built a small reed hut for him on the grounds of San Damiano in order to tend to him as he was dying. It was there that he wrote ‘Canticle of the Creatures” in 1225. He died shortly thereafter and was canonized in 1228.
Clare passed away on August 11, 1253 and was canonized in 1255. In 1850 her tomb was discovered and opened and it was found that her body never decomposed. It is on display at the new crypt of Basilica of St. Clare in Assisi, Italy.
Dedication:
I dedicate this work to my two grandmothers. The picture in the first part is of a statue of St. Clare which was given to me by my maternal grandmother Vera. The rosary in the image was left to me by my paternal grandmother, Dorothy, affectionately known as Dodo. Dodo loved St. Francis and carried this prayer on a well worn card I found inside her pocket bible after she died.
Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon:
where there is doubt, faith ;
where there is despair, hope
where there is darkness, light
where there is sadness, joy
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
