Transmissions from the Northern Outpost

As mentioned Thursday, in July of 1995, before I got married, I spent six weeks on a  retreat at Mt. Saviour Monastery above Elmira, N.Y. where a handful of other young men and I lived with the Benedictine monks there. While there, I ended up writing a couple of poems. This is another one of them, on the great philosopher monk Thomas Merton.

Transfiguration

	-- at Mount Saviour Monastery, July 1995

The clouds of unknowing roll over me,
nuclear in their design,
probably like those that carried him,
his spirit out to the Pacific and beyond

the vapor trail I view on the horizon
now. An airliner lifts off, brushes
the cross on the steeple,
the silence into sonic resonances.

Like the SAC bomber that buzzed
across his hermitage's roof
(its bay doors, the jaws of Apocalypse,
if opened could swallow the countryside).

The same type of bomber that took him
stateside. On Sunday after Mass,
I listen to the blues in the common room,
ponder the irony of lyrics, saints' fates.

As always, this poem is best read in desktop and landscape on your browser of choice.

Since this poem is about Thomas Merton, I am going to give you a link to two of his poems in the February 1949 issue of Poetry.

Today’s post is also part of The Sunday Salon hosted by Deb Nance of the blog Readerbuzz. For those visiting from Deb’s link-up, I encourage you to look back at the poems I’ve shared earlier this month.