Discalced Carmelite Friars

Semi 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

The Lands of Sunrise and Sunset: Thirteen Found Poems - 2 of 13


The World is not Enough


A bird flew over and

Sat—there was nothing else to do.

Do not mistake its silence for pride

And strength.

                        In time it spoke of

The Mournful Meadows below;

There no fiddling can be heard

                        In the glades

Of silentness, and no bird

Thrills the airy shades—

“O soft pipes, play on,

Not to the sensual ear, but,

More endeared, pipe to the spirits

Ditties of no tone.”


Wait, my soul, your solace comes at midnight

Appearing in some unexpected place

With quivering lips, and gleaming, moonlit face.


The bird returns and, into a blue-lit

Blustery sky, hollers:  “Does spring hide

Its joy when buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower sow by night,

Or the plowman in darkness plow?”


                                    Hasn’t my horse

Some desirable knowledge, an enclosed

Meadow quite other than this sodden field?

I believe it does—for who can say

If the last to climb these stairs

Will be journeying up or down?


Vast, sultry lakes and cities,

Roads that cross mountains,

You fit easily into the millimeter of space

That’s squeezed between creation and myself;

I’m riding west towards the hills of sunset.

Written by Fr. Bonaventure, OCD

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