Triptych Of Passion Poem by Steve Taunton

Panel I. A Turning in My Path

Midway this life we’re bound upon,
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
Where the right road was wholly lost and gone.
Dante. The Divine Comedy, “Hell, ” Canto I,1-3.

As falling into a deepening pit, in unseeing haste, driven
Nearly mad, wanting to escape the repeated wounds
Of so many meaningless pursuits, I grasped again
In blind futility for a well-paved path of purpose.
Through a cold and empty night I ran from memories,
Wasted with failed intentions, with once-flared passions.

Patterns and purposes appeared as phantom lovers,
Beckoning my wounded heart again to follow,
To follow another path, to assume once more
A useless burden, another burst of passion;
A passion, a burden not my own.

With fruitless burdens and empty passions only
Promising to thicken the callous of my dear heart’s Affection,
I bent my head low to the path before me,
My eyes haunted by the replay of twisting shapes
Of guilt and regret, of past pain.

Then, as the first hint of new morning, as a fragrance
Of blossoms and with a play of light approaching,
I turned from the endless designs of the path before me.
I ceased in my failing passions and counting
Each moment with breathless care;

And I turned,
Meeting the radiance of my Bridegroom.
Loosening the cords of my failures, in His fingers,
My heart restored, my purposes came alive with His love.

Panel II. With an Everlasting Love

O, night that guided me, O, night more lovely than the dawn,
O, night that joined the Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!
St. John of the Cross. Dark Night of the Soul, Stanza 5.

Loosed, I reached with my eyes across the sky:
All above was the still, fathomless night,
A choir rising rich in deep violet.
I fell into His palm, a field blanketed with white,
In a dark wood lining His love.

All about me, His arms forever surrounding,
His stars hung above my weary head;
His chorus filling the edges of the sphere.
His eyes over me watching,
As ornaments of His love suspended.

Now, without paths, turning, my feet stumbling
Beyond pretense or purpose, I took His hand;
I fell into His love.
Resting, I lay watching the dawn
Of my Bridegroom approaching.

Panel III. Now, I Abided with My Beloved

High phantasy lost power and here broke off;
Yet, as a wheel moves smoothly, free from jars,
My will and my desire were turned by love,
The love that moves the sun and the other stars.
Dante. The Divine Comedy, “Paradise, ” Canto XXXIII,142-45.

Stumbling, into a hollow place, I fell there
At the feet of my Beloved.
Stars turning in constellations over His brow,
Into His arms, He drew me close by His burning heart,
We lay in the darkly shadowed wood,
Lighted by a burning moon, shining with His love.

His breath, the warm sweetness of blossoms,
Of fresh mown fields, caressed my forehead,
And quietly, His words as distant rolling thunder,
Sang with arrows that loosed past hungry memories.
Singing with the morning stars, His eyes
Over me watching, He fed me with His words.

Broken, I came again, after years wasted
With sorrow and foolish wandering.
I came again, at last to my Bridegroom, my Beloved;
And now, I abided with Him.
He fed me with His words, I drank of His company;
In His love, I rested there, all my needs met.

I remained, lost in oblivion; My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten
among the lilies.
St. John of the Cross. Dark Night of the Soul, Stanza 8.