Discalced Carmelite Friars

Province of St. Therese

Poet and Contemplative

“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

Three Poems for the Coming of Spring – Part 3


III.

A Boy's Song of Spring

I want to laugh and sing, to tell riddles or share with you
The dream that woke me this morning, feeding sunlight to my eyes.

I want to mix my words with the clatter of a bluejay's boxcar as it passes,
Throwing long, like a train whistle, the football of my thoughts.

I want to ride Spring's purity of power, its unbridled freedom.  In a nutshell,
To take up the joy of a lifetime that, on this best of days, it offer me.

*

So, what really becomes of the bread after the priest has had his say
With it?  "It becomes a light burning with the presence and glow of Spring."

Hidden beneath the hole that is my heart whenever I'm made breathless
By the beauty of things, love nestles, one with my hunger.

I've not grown up yet; I'm tall, yes, but still as fragile as a blade of grass.
Spring takes note and unveils its softer hues of red and purple at day's end.

*

I heard you struggling to break free inside me; the knot in my soul
Is the fist you raised and brought down hard on the table.

Our abiding together in silence lies now shattered like an egg.
"Let's continue on speaking terms," I ask, "for without you I am nothing;

Each day I die the same approaching death."  Yet I live and grow stronger,
For the world is alive today.  Its thick, healing breath is all around me.

Written by Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD
See Older Posts...