We offer you this poem from St. John of the Cross for your prayer practice: Bride In the inner wine cellar I drank of my beloved, and when I went abroad Through all this valley I no longer knew anything, And lost the herd that I was following. There he gave me his breast; There he taught me a sweet and living knowledge; And I gave myself to him, Keeping nothing back; There I promised to be his bride. Now I occupy my soul And all my energy in his service; I no longer tend the herd, Nor have I any other work Now that my every act is love With flowers and emeralds Chosen on cool mornings We shall weave garlands Flowering in your love, And bound with one hair of mine. You considered That one hair fluttering at my neck; You gazed at it upon my neck; And it captivated you; And one of my eyes wounded you. When you looked at me Your eyes imprinted your grace in me; For this you loved me ardently; And thus my eyes deserved To adore what they beheld in you. Do not despise me; For if, before, you found me dark, Now truly you can look at me Since you have looked And left in me grace and beauty.
Bridegroom The small white dove Has returned to the ark with an olive branch; And now the turtledove Has found its longed-for mate By the green river banks. She lived in solitude, And now in solitude has built her nest; And in solitude he guides her, He alone, who also bears In solitude the wound of love.