Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Open Search
Month

April 2020

Hollowed

sorry, it’s long

 

Hollowed

(a citizen’s report)

 

It’s Monday

I feel scoured

Too many things

Eye strain

Trouble reading

That’s a hard one

Trouble writing

That’s harder

Pain in my shoulders

Onset of arthritis?

My nose hurts,

Too

Headache behind my eyes

My head feels full

These days, I have to hope

It’s only a cold

Or a sinus infection

Normal diseases

That don’t take life

As easily as they used to

 

I’m tired

But sleep poorly

My head hurts against

The pillows

And now my car is broken down

The mechanic so far doesn’t

Know what’s wrong,

But I have no vehicular

Escape from the monster

Living above me, making

House-shaking noise because

She can

The landlord doesn’t care

She must be angry about

So many things

 

But I breathe

I move my limbs, if

Slowly

I have food from before

I lost my car

And where there’s life, there’s hope,

Which might be Tolkien

Or Aesop with an animal

Tale—with animals who may

Or may not have tales—

I don’t know

 

It’s a rainy day,

But so far not the interesting

Kind

The sky is featureless

There is evidence of drops

Against the window

And because this is all

Not enough, the local news

Broadcasts a tornado watch

 

Then goes on to report

New cases and new deaths

Republicans want businesses open

Democrats want people safe

I’d like to think the economy is

People, too

Maybe once it was

And will be again

Not now

Not yet

 

If there’s a reopening of the state

Or when it happens,

It will go part by part

There will be no business as usual,

Which I think could be

A chance to change the usual

 

My medication’s off

Because the insurance company

Made mistakes it doesn’t want

To correct,

So I have to find a new way

To have what I need

I don’t feel pushed out because of

The virus

But for typical reasons

To talk about business as usual

 

People without symptoms:

Are they sick or

Carriers?  Such possibilities, even

If viable, will add

To fear.

I understand

 

I hear some rumbling

A hungrier storm might be

On the way

A storm that has its need as well

It’s Monday

Half a day ‘til midnight

And in the darkness

And the Tuesday vigil

What hope might come from watching?

I will simply try to sleep

Failing or unfailing

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Noah on Unsplash

Schweiz

surgical mask, or procedure mask, intended to be worn by health professionals during surgery and certain healthcare procedures to catch microorganisms shed in liquid droplets and aerosols from the wearer’s mouth and nose

 

0

The Return of the Ring

The Return of the Ring

(Easter 2020)

 

1

 

When the ring is cast into

Mount Doom, however

Accidentally, and the designs

Of the Dark Lord are done

(however accidentally),

Then everything on Middle-

Earth is turned over—for the

Better, to be sure

 

But how many things will

Need to be remade?  Certain

Friends are gone, too many

 

Heroes will rule now from afar

Those in homes not made

Of stone will have to rebuild

And refugees will need

To find their way

 

New associations will be needed

New rings of friends, and in

The rings will go perforce new

Ways of thinking that should

Go in more easily, from then on

 

2

 

It’s a day like any other

Above my head the sky is pale,

The sun trying to shine more

Beatifically

 

We make this day

In remembrance, celebration

Like a birthday

Or the celebration at the end of Ramadan

 

Is the Earth newly invested?

Is it cleaner, less hollowed-out by

Profiteering?—well, maybe a little or some

Today, when and where it’s been made

A holiday from

Such occupations along with the more

Mundane, acceptable kinds

Also on holiday

 

There is still blood on the cross,

However; no time or age

Can wash it clean

There is a chamber, carved out for

A tomb and used by someone else,

Which will never be emptier

Than when the stone was rolled

Away, than now

 

Yes, some things are supernal

Maybe there’s greater quiet on the land

Jews, Hindus, and Muslims might

Enjoy it as provided by their

Christian neighbors, friend or foe

 

3

 

So it is a day forever

And it’s only today

With the merging of the ordinary into

Realities ineffable

 

The pope will preach at vigil’s end

This year to an empty room

But not an empty planet

There will be an audience

(popes always have audiences),

This one planetary-wide

With who knows listening from another

Cosmic ring

 

The Baptists will get in on this

Even the chilly Presbyterians, boot-

Strapped by their own order

Methodists will have the

Chance,

Deserving if for no other reason than

Having saved my mother

 

After the regulars and the Anabaptists

(who are not normal in pacificity,

n’est-ce pas?),

All the other groups

All groups chime in,

For it is a time of chimes

The way Italians serenade each other

From the open edge of windows

And of balconies

With the signs that DIY-ers have assembled

And displayed in honor of

First-responders

 

Ring out Easter day

There is news

That’s always new

There is hope in the world and

All worlds

 

If you believe—

No pixie dust required—then

Jesus Christ has risen today

For you

For us

For all

Belief is not incumbent on the fact

Of resurrection

In irascible loving, starting somehow

In the garden,

It’s up to each of us

But believe or not, salvation’s

At your home

 

Regardless (sorry, I won’t be

presuming),

Here is a day

The one we have

If and as possible,

As decided,

To let pass or

To cry, to laugh, to sing, to mourn

Ordinary living, extraordinarily

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

 

 

3

Good Saturday

Good Saturday

 

It wasn’t good for us

Maybe not for God

Maybe God was weeping, too,

Though could not be hiding

Part of God was buried, though

Unless the strategy to

Harrow hell is more than

A medieval story

 

But first followers have no hope

Today

Jesus is gone, buried quickly

Inside a sabbath regulation,

A guard set to keep anyone from

Trying anything

 

But disciples are not ghouls

The body did not matter, anymore

Except that there were those

Who though the body

Should be spiced,

A practical and spiritual

Measure

 

Hopeless people might not

Have cared

Jesus was gone, the movement failed

Neither the zealots nor the

Gentler ones could have their way

From him

No that there wasn’t drama:

Judas took his money, then

Destroyed his own part

In everything

 

Maybe there were those who had

If in a maudlin way

Celebrated political victory

Death of the teacher

Who had rabble-roused

And inconvenienced leadership

If only in the heart

 

Herod who lived

Might be pleased

He could set up the cross next to

The platter also soaked in blood

A museum to the worldly-

Minded

And, to those who know,

An emptiness of soul

 

Who were the followers?

Where were they?

It seemed they fled

No one among them moved

Except some women and

A young man

Nothing threatening there

 

The Earth hides quietly today

Maybe the sun will bathe

The hilltop of Golgotha

Maybe rain will do even more

To cleanse

 

The people who are left

They have no faith

No hope

They have forgotten anything about

What could happen next

They are tired, frightened, aware of

Their parts as outcasts and outlaws

 

Only a few hold on to strings of prophecy

Maybe remembering the life, the

Healings, the lessons from their teacher

But he is bodily gone

This is the dreaded day in-between

Only they don’t know

There is another side

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jordan Christian on Unsplash

Beartooth Highway, United States

 

Holey Week 7

 

3

Feel It

Feel It

(think it through)

 

We call it Good Friday,

I’m not sure why

Because it was good for us that

Jesus died and,

Like the best sin-eater that he was—

King for a day and fool

In the world’s eyes—he

Consumed our sins in

Ignoble majesty,

A perfect person without sin himself,

And died

 

Otherwise, we should call it

What it was, the

Awful Friday

Terrible in blood and wood and metal,

The sounds of weeping

And of cursing,

‘Til the sun stopped shining and the

Earth was split

Because he died

 

I sit sipping ginger ale and

Nibbling toast, while

I try to write;

This

Is no version of the meal

That instigated things, though

We call it “last”

 

If I want, I may take part

In re-living and remembering this

At church

 

There is no last for me

Or you,

As there was for him

Though we might feel it in

Fear and isolation

 

There is something more—frankly,

I’m not sure

What it is exactly—and

 

We can have it

(inexactly)

Because there was this

Good death today

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Ave Calvar on Unsplash

 

Holey Week 6

 

1

Maundy, Maundy

Maundy, Maundy

 

They had a loving supper

We know, because Jesus said to

Love each other

Many will have the same in remembrance

This night

Jews have a special supper sometimes near

This time

 

The importance of meals

As a bachelor, sometimes I don’t appreciate

The value

Of the family with friends or guests

Sharing food and drink

The nourishment from company

And if it’s too much, well, it’s always over

 

More things will happen later on

Jesus will be arrested,

Sent to trial and to torture

Those who ate with him will scatter

Except the women and two men,

One of them who’s steadfast,

The other man who at the fire says

He never knew the one

Taken away

 

So the greater hope is in the women

Watch what follows in the next few days

 

Let’s have this meal

Because and regardless of tradition

It’s important

That we dine together

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Sandro Gonzalez on Unsplash

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Holy Communion

 

Holey Week 5

 

3

Keeping Faith in Time

Keeping Faith in Time

 

Big days are coming

Liturgically speaking

For practitioners of child and

Parent faiths

Maybe today should have gone quietly

There’s daily service

To attend to

I don’t know how to make

Every day spiritually special

As one of those practitioners, I should

But weak flesh and sometimes

Unwilling spirit,

Which is to say I’m human

So are you

Not as an excuse for anything

While there are certain things, at large and internal,

To give in to

There are things we must keep trying for

Let this day found goodness

In the next one

And if we miss a step

Let’s remember certain rhythms

And their seasons

Allow for discord

(against the chord)

Without ruining the music

Might make it better

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Zachary Nelson on Unsplash

Bethel College, Mishawaka, United States

 

Holey Week 4

 

1

“I” Trouble (not with Thou)

Due to lack of sleep and stress, I’m having trouble using the computer, specifically watching the screen.  I aim to post once a day, still, though reading others’ writing is taking longer.  I’m about a day and a half behind, just now.  I don’t know what will help the eye trouble beyond taking long breaks.  It’s not a good time to consider eye exams and ordering glasses and such.  Hopefully, things providing (more) relief will happen for all of us.

Sorry.  Thanks.  I hope each of you and each one close to you is safe and well.  We’re saying “safe and well” a great deal these days, aren’t we?  Well, we have to do this as one thing out of many things we do to care.

 

Christopher

 

 

Photo by S N Pattenden on Unsplash

Parsons Chameleon

 

5

A Now That Must Also Look Ahead

A Now That Must Also Look Ahead

 

It’s Tuesday

It’s a nuthin’ day

A sick day

Among sick days

The novelty’s worn off

Some learning’s needed

With the cooking

And the cleaning

The boxing

(of both kinds)

All the games that

Walls and cyber-walls allow

Thank goodness, we can

Look outside and go there

 

There’s real talking, too

In many ways

A face to face

That’s a comfort

And we learn from this

A different kind

Of schooling, maybe

There are books

Paper and pencil, too

Or let them be totems for

Pens or the electron kind,

What it all might represent

The faces

All the forms

 

We can through this, now

Until the angel passes

Our own kind of rite

The Jewish own so well

 

Singing for pass-over

Blood upon the lintel

Chair for the prophet, should

The prophet come to call

Food, some of it with bitter herbs

But everything we need

For the journey

Into such desert and

At last

A homeland

 

The Passover is family

Each tradition has its form

And if we have none,

What better time than pandemic’s

For making something new?

For the world needs cleaning

Not a purging

But a dusting off

Soap and water

Disinfectant for the worst

While we wait

Research

And wait

With everything that passes over

 

Having something of the new

Inside,

Maybe inexorably, ineffably

Once shared,

New ritual

Based on care for what we’ve learned

Of who we’ve been

And who we are

Again and for the first time

 

As for death and mourning,

Each tradition knows that well

And those without

However we might feel

I don’t know how to count

While others do

Remember, in the future,

It was this kind of plague

I might not be here

Or another witness

Closer and more qualified

You’ll have to have a story

Back to learning, again

Sad lessons

And tragic

And a void

We learn this other kind of life

Lived through emptiness

It is time for a wake, the Irish say

(who also know bread

and bitter herbs for sin and hope,

Irish Jews more so)

Though this party if too big

Too many coffins to line up

Along the bar

What the dead drink

Will do nothing for a tab

Only take coins in readiness for

Ferry pilots

Announced by banshees

 

These groups I know a little of

You have your own

And stories

Set them down and tell them

Try not to worry about variants

They happen

There is a narrative here

Part of the story of the Earth

If we tell it well,

The Earth might weep

For us

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by David T on Unsplash

Serifos, Greece

 

Holey Week 3

 

0

One More

One More

 

Some might say

Since we are ash

At the end, then

Let us burn now

 

They are wrong

Enough goes up

In flame, not the

Good kind, either

Not the sun

That through the

Ozone give us

Life, that lights up

The moon for our

Remembrance

 

The flame that

Takes, we understand

As Pogo says, this

Enemy is us

 

And yet the comic

Character is funny;

My dad read him

Later quoted him

Year in, year out

 

And he is right:

We know the enemy,

And it is funny

Laughter, sardonic,

Otherwise, does

Drive the devil

Mad, so much so

There’s a rule,

No jokes in hell

 

So breathe and

Do not breathe for

Burning—there

Is more water,

Sometimes with a

Kick, always more

Until the barkeep

Calls last call,

 

There having been

Enough, even if

We are left, human

Will in strange

Partnership with

Eternity, wanting

While we’re here

One more

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Chronis Yan on Unsplash

 

“We have met the enemy and he is us” is a parody of a message sent in 1813 from U.S. Navy Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry to Army General William Henry Harrison after his victory in the Battle of Lake Erie, stating, “We have met the enemy, and they are ours.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogo_(comic_strip)#%22We_have_met_the_enemy_and_he_is_us.%22

 

Holey Week 2

 

1

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑