March 18: Poetry and Ecstacy, NPR, and Psalm 10

Yesterday, my friend and colleague at the university said she was jealous of me, because I'd written nine poems in nine days.  "You're bleeding poetry," she said.  I wrote her comment down I liked it so much, and it became the basis of today's psalm. 

I've always been fascinated by stories about people who suffer from the stigmata.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, stigmata refers to the wounds of Christ.  Starting with Francis of Assisi, certain holy people throughout the centuries have developed sores on their hands, feet, head, and flanks which, more or less correspond to the injuries Jesus received during His crucifixion.  These mystics usually undergo visions and trances, as well.  They also have a tendency to perform miracles.

I once went to a healing service where a local man, who purportedly had the stigmata, was going to appear.  The church was packed with people in wheelchairs and with crutches.  The mass before the healing service went on for two hours.  I never saw the stigmatic man.  I had to leave before he entered the church.  He passed away a year or so ago.  I probably missed my one and only chance to witness this phenomenon firsthand.

Anyway, my friend's comment got me thinking about stigmata, religious ecstasy, visions, and poetry.  They all seemed to swim around in my mind, along with a healthy dose of sex.  Whenever I hear the word "ecstasy," there always seems to be a certain amount of sexual energy/imagery that goes along with it.  Just look at the pictures below of a famous sculpture by Bernini of the stigmatic mystic Teresa of Avila.  Look at the expression on her face.  It rivals the facial expressions of women in porn films.  The psalm I wrote for today deals with all of these issues.

This afternoon, I went to the local Public Radio station to record my psalms for the month of April, which is National Poetry Month.  It's something I've done for the last few years.  It provides me my annual fifteen minutes of fame.  I chose to read all of the psalms I've written so far.  Psalms 1 through 10.  If you're interested in hearing me read these poems, I will post a link when they put it on podcast.

Here is the poem for the day.  Saint Marty's warning:  you may need to smoke a cigarette or take a cold shower after you're done reading it.

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Bernini's "Ecstasy of Saint Theresa"



Psalm 10:  Ecstatic Stigmatic

A Cajun friend told me I’m bleeding

Poetry, that my hands, feet, side, head

Have opened, like Francis of Assisi

After his chat with a burning angel,

Lilacs, roses spilling out of my ragged

Skin.  Put your hand in my ribs, pull

Out a sonnet or elegy, slick, pink,

Like a newborn as it flushes with breath

For the first time.  Dig your fingers

Into my palms, feel the moon rise

In my veins, the tongue of a lover

Brush the dermal ridges of your

Fingertips.  On the gauze of bandage

I wrap around my feet, I find

Words, lines of verse in frank, red

Blood that say things like, “ I press

My lips to your mango neck, taste Eden”

And “Rise with me at night, climb

The slope of my body to heaven.”

In the mirror, I examine the mystic

Cut of thorn in my forehead, see

Within my wounds the girl I wanted

In high school, her dark hair,

Curve of back, rosary of body I would

Have kissed over and over with prayer,

See Teresa of Avila in ecstasy,

Her seraph as he pierced her

Heart again and again with his spear

Of gold, made her writhe, moan

In sweet pain until she opened

Her lips, sucked in a breath,

Cried out her love poem for God.