It’s been a word on my mind for years. Well, not the word, actually. Because I don’t speak Portuguese. (And in case you don’t either: saudade)
But we all know its colours and its scents and its sounds. We all know where to go to find its vividestness. Perhaps, some kind of closet…
(And we all wish it were a word in English, because, I mean, Saudade!)
One of the things I love about CS Lewis…he can take a heartwrenching word like this one and give it resolution. Not by his own invention of course, but in his descriptions of Christ realities – whether he’s taking it to another heavenly/”far-off country”/Christ longing level in the Narnia series, (hidden in a closet, no less) …or in brilliant descriptions like this one The inconsolable secret.
I so love the word. I’d love to honour it in a poem. But I can’t. I’ve tried. I blame it on everything but my writing skills. And the experts tell us that if you try and it’s too hard, then you should give up… um, is this decaf?
Besides, as much as I love the truth in negative spaces, and torturing myself with it… I much prefer what Lewis has done…you know, reminding us of what Christ has done, is doing, will do: the consolable longing…
(*Note to self: I seriously need to learn another language…
*Note to you: I may still attempt the poem…just as a warm-up, there is this: nepenthe of nepenthes)
Photo credit: my husband