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The Hermit Curses
Sharp sunrises cut white streaks on the plain,
whet edges on black soil, where all at once
the spirit clefts from matter, and my gains
recoil when I recall your face. Not front
or profiled, but the back—like some long cursed
outlander on the road you think you know
but dare not hail. Grey and sallow, I thirst
to lose myself, to feel the spasmic throe
in limbs and spine, to swallow the abyss
and fill it with the aching dark of deep
surrender. Yet how can I write of this,
to smile in my flesh and turn your cheek,
when I’m supposed to soar, hear orchestras
in solos, unearth color in a pause?
.
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Joshua S. Fullman is Professor of English and Director of the Writing Center at California Baptist University where he teaches poetry and creative writing. His book of poems, Voices of Iona, touches on themes of time, pilgrimage, and the pursuit of God in the British Isles.
This is a strange poem, but interesting and compelling. Something is disturbing the speaker, but it is not immediately clear what that thing is. He is remembering and speaking to someone (perhaps a former friend or lover from his pre-hermit days), and there seems to be some kind of rebuke in his words. But perhaps the person he speaks to is God or a patron saint, who may have left the hermit in that “dark night of the soul” when prayers seem disregarded and unanswered.
Perhaps the hermit is a contemplative, aiming for some kind of mystical union with God, and being denied it for some reason.
As I read this, in a moment of weakness ‘my gains / recoil when I recall your face…’ – the hermit has recalled a loved one from his past and has a bad case of the guilts. The dark, imagery helps convey the feeling of helplessness to these ‘before’ glimpses that to the hermit are an abyss.
Thanks for the read, Joshua.
The distraught hermit has had a glimpse of light, only to reveal the dark abyss within.
It seems like a cursed adventure because of the “unknowing” of the path he is on.
He is remembering secret and holy “encounters” which serve to bring a greater dissatisfaction with his current isolation.
This is a poem of despair and hope at the same time.
The sharp sunrise is both exposing and promising that out of darkness shines a great light, although shrouded for a time, while the hermit/soul acknowledges the limitations of his flesh as it persecutes true goodness.
He will emerge from his “unfeeling” ways to experience the vibrancy of fresh light and beautiful sounds that accompany deep surrender.
I like the way the colors are presented in this poem. It begins with the juxtaposition of white and black< and then we are into the very tragic mind of the speaker & into the gray (color) of his aching dark Of deep surrender [gray to dark]. If the beginning of the poem is silent & filled rather with very visible imagery (of the beloved's back while trying to get to see beloved's cheek – as to get his/her attention & [finally] to see the face. This is the moment (at the very end) when the solos & orchestra are mentioned< and the poem comes to coda of unearthed sound [while the turned cheek suggest the biblical moment but in non-biblical sense gives another color (pink, perhaps), to the entire picture: from appeal to hope of connection.
Joshua, this is a fine, enigmatic sonnet on spiritual dryness at a high level of proficiency in prayer. A Biblical key to it is the final verses of Exodus 33, where Moses, having been assured of God’s personal favor to him, asks to see God’s glory. The Lord replies that He will show Moses the good, in which God can be seen–but He finally relents and says He Himself will pass by, but protect the place where Moses is with His hand, such that Moses can see His back after He has passed. “Thou canst not see my face, for no man can see me and live.”
This is the back of the face Joshua Fullman’s hermit recalls. Because he can compare his experience with that of Moses, he is at the point some spiritual writers would call the dark night of the soul between the illuminative way and the way of union, which is the highest one can reach in this description. Both these states are advanced, considering that most of us remain in the purgative way fighting the good fight against sin. The hermit is clearly longing to achieve the union he calls surrender, but the fact that he is cursing his inability could suggest a fall back into inordinate desire for more. Or it may simply express the agonizing difficulty he experiences at this spiritual stage while he is still “in my flesh.” The sensory contradictions of the couplet imply as much.
The longing of the hermit is for the future promised in I John 3:2, when we shall “see him as he is.” As we conclude the long season of preparation for Easter (which is ideally difficult!), this poem provides most appropriate meditation.
What an admirably crafted, beautiful and beguiling sonnet that challenges me to think deeply. It appears to hint at a carnal spirituality that challenges religious purity and embraces the primal. It puts me in mind of Shakespeare’s Caliban. Could the hermit’s retreat be a form of self-protection? And could his stubborn refusal to connect actually be an asset? The mystery of the unknown face adds to the mystique of this intriguing piece. Thank you!
“This poem glows with quiet rebellion—not against society, but against the expectations of transcendence. It weaves longing, surrender, and the weight of memory into vivid, haunting images.
“The face” that the hermit is talking about must be of someone he didn’t wish to let go of when he renunciated the world and its offers. His need for this person comes flooding (recoil) into him whenever he thinks of this person. This person is compared to a stranger on the road whom he knows but doesn’t want to greet, as this act will pull him back into the material world and impede his spiritual progress (such a clever way to describe the mind’s never-ending ploy to end one’s spiritual quest). I think the hermit wants to surrender to this natural flow of sensation and desires in him but, simultaneously, doesn’t. He’s most probably in a state of dilemma and also guilt. This poem is exemplary of the spiritual battles monks face. It’s true that with years of mastering the mind, they are able to suppress the alluring call of the material world. However, being human, the struggle keeps coming back once in a while. One of the best poems I’ve read so far!
If the hermit-speaker of the poem is a serious religious recluse or anchorite, then he might well be tempted on occasion by worldly thoughts and remembrances, just like any human being. As a devout man, he resists these temptations, but the struggle is upsetting to him, as the language of this poem suggests.
I am reminded of something I read many years ago about a monk who was in a very strict contemplative order that enjoined total silence on its members, except for prayers and indispensable communications on monastery matters. The monastery decided, at the request of a national magazine, to allow its monks to have brief interviews with a few reporters about their beliefs and lives. Most did not have much to say, and some of them had voices that were cracked and raspy from long disuse.
One monk said that he had been a concert-level musician before deciding to leave the world and enter the monastic state. He said “I loved all the great classic masters, whose music was what I lived for. In this place none of that secular music is allowed, and we all live in silence. But every so often I catch myself humming a passage of music from Mozart or Bach. When I become conscious of it, I immediately stop and ask God’s forgiveness, or at least His understanding.”