Spiritual poetry

There's this one fellow I know who has an enthusiasm for his faith that I can't help but admire - a gung-ho guy who feels the impact of things that happen to him that every once in a while, poetry slips out of him. And while I admire his faith, the poetry is perhaps a little bit more down to Earth, shall we say.

He may not lack talent; I think poetry concering faith is just very hard to do. Good poetry uses imagery, metaphor, constructs a picture in the mind of the person hearing it. You can write a poem about a flea market quite easily, as there is so much to see, and you can easily convey your impressions. A good poem never comes out and tells you what the author is thinking, it simply exposes what the author thinks.

It is not impossible, of course. Just look at the Song of Solomon. Even translated into English it is a very great work. Primarily about a human, sensual love, it also hints at being a representation of that more abstract love between human and God.

I know how hard it is to hold back, and use image and metaphor alone. It is easier in suffering to do this, for there is much imagery, spiritual imagery for that. How do you convey imagery for joy? Mostly with wordless things, like exuberant music. Makes poetry difficult!

One fellow who in my opinion wrote wonderful spiritual poetry was St. John of the Cross. He figures out an imagery that is lush, sensual, and yet unquestionably spiritual. You can tell, in fact, he has paid careful attention to the Song of Solomon, there are many echoes of it. Here is part of the "Song of the Soul And the Bridegroom."

Where have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.

O shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see Him
Whom I love the most,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.

In search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.

O groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?
SONG OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM