After reading Dark Night of the Soul

We can call this secret contemplation a ladder.—Saint John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul, Book 2, Chapter 18

 

clothed in whitest dark cloud
yourise
graced with green pristine helmet
asyour
hope and a raiment of purple counter
tothe
devil given a charity splendor and faith
ereyou
weep pause to praise the lost soul sure-footed
inthe
sea possessed by a grand humility peaceful quest
soyou
ascend deeper and deeper while aridity grasps
ontoyour
natural strength to relinquish sensuality
foran
all-enveloping in-rushing love

 

This poem was published as one of six poems in issue #2 of Ranger magazine.

Andy Oram
April 23, 2023

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