I get the feeling that this saint, who suffered rejection from the very monasteries he longed to serve, and who simply lived on the road for twelve years (dozen potholes?) in religious pilgrimage and died in the prime of his life, left a legacy of austerity, humility and piety. In sainthood he perhaps surpassed his earthly desire to become a monk. As a mother I wonder, had his mother wept while he slept as a saint? Your poem is both painful and beautiful. The images invoked here, once I understood the history (the tragedy?) capture the austerity this young intellect lived, I felt grief, to think of such brilliance “emptying” and respect for such suffering and yet, peace for the way in which he served God and acceptance that this was his path. A thought-provoking poem and one which doesn’t waste words.
That multiple sun-in-potholes image at the end is a home run. It's still buzzing in my brain.
Mine too!!!
I get the feeling that this saint, who suffered rejection from the very monasteries he longed to serve, and who simply lived on the road for twelve years (dozen potholes?) in religious pilgrimage and died in the prime of his life, left a legacy of austerity, humility and piety. In sainthood he perhaps surpassed his earthly desire to become a monk. As a mother I wonder, had his mother wept while he slept as a saint? Your poem is both painful and beautiful. The images invoked here, once I understood the history (the tragedy?) capture the austerity this young intellect lived, I felt grief, to think of such brilliance “emptying” and respect for such suffering and yet, peace for the way in which he served God and acceptance that this was his path. A thought-provoking poem and one which doesn’t waste words.
STUNNING and soulful.
Good job!
So strong and striking. Never knew of this saint before, now he’s indelible.
I loved that image at the end ... after the rain passed, a dozen potholes held a dozen suns.
Well done.
One of my favorite poems of yours.
🙏🏻💙
I have only two words: hell yeah!