A humble attempt to Complete the Dark Night of the Soul

St. John of the Cross wrote a famous poem and commentary on the poem called The Dark Night of the Soul. I have copied St. John's poem below and then I have written my "completion" of the poem in another poem. I will never be St. John so this is not an "improvement" but rather a poetic reflection on life after the experience of the dark night.


Stanzas Of The Soul


1. One dark night,
fired with love's urgent longings
- ah, the sheer grace! -
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled.


2. In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
- ah, the sheer grace! -
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.


3. On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.


4. This guided me
more surely than the light of noon
to where he was awaiting me
- him I knew so well -
there in a place where no one appeared.


5. O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united
the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.


6. Upon my flowering breast
which I kept wholly for him alone,
there he lay sleeping,
and I caressing him
there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.


7. When the breeze blew from the turret,
as I parted his hair,
it wounded my neck
with its gentle hand,
suspending all my senses.


8. I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

Here is my attempt to continue the story:


The Dark Night Completed

O, the bliss of the those lilies
amongst whom my cares rest.
Trumpets of white and yellow
sanctuary the heart’s burden
in tenderness and refuge..

I sought this field of care
with abandon and forgetfulness
asearch for the Beloved
who alone could satisfy my soul
pained in hungering desire.

Now filled I take the love
the Beloved has bestowed
to a world covering its soul pain
in accumulated goods hiding
its true diagnosis.

O, how my heart desires
To bury my face in the breast
of holy love, yet
true love is only known
in generosity.

Dandelion and thistle around me
testimonies of false promises
of beauty and refuge..
Only those who rest in lilies
know Beauty and Protection.

Light and hope unfold in the leaving
To touch those whose hearts,
Dark and concealed,
Cry out for the Beloved
-       Ah, the sheer grace! –

Ronald Friesen © 2011