Many of the stanzas of this exquisite poem, full of lush natural images, were composed by Saint John of the Cross without pen or paper, the stanzas kept in his memory, while he was locked in a windowless, six-by-ten-foot converted closet, with only a thin slit of light high up in a wall. But for now, as the poem commences, the pain is strong and irremediable.
The mood of loneliness in the poem will shift over the course of its forty stanzas to a recognition of the Beloved’s presence even in his concealment. The piercing lament of the bride, wounded in the depth of her soul, is an image of the lover of God who seeks for his return after earlier enjoying his close presence. In these opening lines of a lengthy poem, we hear the agonized voice of a lover tormented by her solitude, in a terrible suffering after the departure of her Beloved. This initial stanza of “The Spiritual Canticle” unlocks the bolt of a door, allowing us a first glimpse at the soul of Saint John of the Cross and his intense love for God. I went out calling you, but you were gone. Planted by the hand of the Beloved O verdant meads And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.
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