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

Poems for Holy Week - 3 of 4

At the Burial of Jesus

You went and the hilltop shuddered, loosed of its burden.
The air tastes of salt, here so very far from the sea.
It is strange.  The waves are churning, the tide rolls in,
The sun sets; very quietly and hastily we finish.
Each goes off to his own house.  We do not say
Good-bye.  Shall we meet again tomorrow?

When we had sealed the tomb, when everyone living at that time
Had seen it . . . when I, too, realized that I, too, had seen it,
That it had become rather ordinary knowledge, like how
To make a sandwich . . .
                                                  On Sundays she went to the park
Where the deer ate from her hand, and the sunlight played
Happy songs before their eyes—songs
Of what it will be like in heaven.  Though they had never asked,
Now they knew.  “When shall he return?  When?”

Written by Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD
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