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 - 1 of 4

Good Friday


The sun sets slowly, an eyeball of wrath, unblinking;
Dogs begin to bark.  In a far corner of the world

A watchman ceremoniously lowers a flag and folds it
For the night.  He has done this before;

He will do it this last time.  Then the long farewell
Will have ended.  He who once was among us will have gone.


The wind picks up and jostles the heads of the tall grass;
Rainless, thunder rumbles near, stampeding past,

A herd of cattle.  The distant hills
Hang down from the sky, a thin veil shimmering with what looks
Like heat, feels like fear.  We cannot break free, cannot

Shake it off.  Suddenly it falls.  We lie quiet beneath it
Enshrouded . . . sleeping, waiting . . .

Written by Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD
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