Discalced Carmelite Friars

Province of St. Therese

Poet and Contemplative

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“From the abundance of his spirit [the poet] pours out secrets and mysteries rather than rational explanation” (Prologue, The Spiritual Canticle).

“In contemplation God teaches the soul very quietly and secretly, without its knowing how, without the sound of words” (Chapter 39, The Spiritual Canticle).

In the spirit of St. John of the Cross, this blog reflects on the contemplative experience and the poetic experience, sometimes separately and distinctly, sometimes in common, as mutually enlightening.

I will also post to this blog, from time to time, my own poetry, with a short interpretive note attached.

~ Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD

The City and Beyond ~ Four Poems – Part 2

Pasqueflower in the rain

II.

Sunday Morning
~Marylake

Snails, slugs, earthworms crowd the flowerbed's wet floor.
Clouds, spun of glass, are set out like bowls filled with melon.

A stray thought passes, maybe one about Mary as she stoops
To kiss the cold lips of her son, or about the wreath
That enfolded the prayer she then whispered.

Rich rye bread for breakfast and, later, icy lemonade,
After a brisk walk.  Invisible threads tie my hands

To the hands of the trees as their arms open upon the lake below.
A breeze stirs, offering the brain a breath of simple wonder.

*

An earthen dam holds against the full weight
Of the lake.  Fog lunges forward, in its own slow,

Self-absorbed way.  By mid-morning it will become a duck and step
Out over the lake's chalky edge.  Then, by noon, a man

Cheerfully donning a gray felt coat, a fishing pole over his shoulder,
And a dark green feather in his cap.  I stand at the porch railing
Sporting a cup of black coffee in one hand.  It begins

To rain, and my heart spills over

Into its steady beat, beat, beat.  The day will not falter, I think.



Written by Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD
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