Poet, Scholar, Teacher, Spiritual Guide

Photo of Kathleen Staudt outside in a pink shirt

Trained as an academic, Kathy has read and studied poetry for most of her life, writing and editing two scholarly books and many articles on the work of the British poet and artist David Jones. She began writing poetry herself at midlife and has found that the poetry has become a spiritual practice of holy attention, enabling her to dwell deeply in the richness and challenges of life, loss, relationships and transitions. Her retreat work and teaching focus on connections between poetry, creativity and the spiritual life, while her many years of training and experience in the art of spiritual direction inform her one-on-one work accompanying people on their faith journeys.

Through scripture, prayer and poetry as well as the rich resources of Christian tradition from Ignatian and Benedictine discernment techniques to Quaker clearness practices, Shaping a Faithful Life offers an opportunity to creatively explore life’s big questions. Readers will learn to listen for God’s lead in the choices that they face around relationships, time and money, and the kinds of work that awaken purpose and passion in their daily life, both in the present and for the future.
book cover of Thing Thing Called Poetry edited by Kathleen Staudt
Poem of the Season

Washington National Cathedral
October 7, 2001

In Afghanistan today,
Our airplanes are dropping
Bombs and food
Too soon to know
Where this news will lead.

I walk the path where on Sundays in Eastertide,
Amid ringing bells,
Treble voices echo from open casement windows.

Today it is colder
Quiet along this path
Through autumn darkened oaks
In the shadow of gray stone.

The tourists near me pause.
Silently we look up
As low-flying helicopters
Roar from the sky.

In the bishop’s garden
Birds in the holly bushes call aloud
Responding to a high flying F-16
Visible above us, through placid autumn sky:
        Circling

In the woods, leaves begin
Their yearly spiral to the ground
Responding to the first real wind of autumn.

Sunlight dapples on old beech trees
Their thick roots digging deep,
Great fingers
        Grasping the soil.
Their silver bark reflecting in its color
The gray stone skin of the cathedral façade,
        Young skin,
Stretched over shapes eight hundred years old,
Enclosing a silent space that echoes
With clashing symbols:
National
        House of Prayer for All
Battle hymns
        Way of Peace
Patriot’s flag
        Crucifix:
        Suffering Love

Where at Evensong today
The choir will sing,

        As for centuries
        In scattered churches
        Of this civilization
        Choirs have sung at eveng:

        Only in Thee
        Can we live in
        Safety.

From Annunciations, Poems out of Scripture