(x = space)
x
x
Evening Hours
x
Tonight, somewhere
Vespers will be sung
x
Then maybe at midnight,
Those keeping vigil
In a circle
In a loft
Will utter prayers at midnight
For the sake of the new day
x
That this midnight
Will mean Monday
Though it could be
Any day,
Any set of twenty-four
Dedicated hours
x
All our sundials
All our watches
All our singing
As God wills
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash
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(x = space)
x
x
Bland Recovery
x
I was hoping
I’d feel better
Even with the brace
I couldn’t find
x
I was hoping
I could cross my legs
To write
And not pay for it,
Afterward
With added pain
x
Here I am on
The fifth Saturday
Wishing it would
Go away,
Wishing that
Too much would
Go away
x
Well, I can walk
On it but then
I wear it out
And it wants to cry,
To complain
About injustice
And why it should
Be me
x
Time to think
About the others,
Which sometimes
Is cold comfort
For why should
You hurt more
So that I feel less
And berate myself
For lack
Of sympathy?
x
Sigh,
The days goes on
And I am in it
You’re there, too,
Most likely with
Your greater pain
And I’m sorry,
Really am
x
I hope we are
Forgiven for
All the nothing we
Have done
To warrant pain
As punishment
And the lessons others
Will impose
x
Our pain an object—then
An object lesson
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Following Discoveries
x
If God wanted us to fly
Well, I think God did want this
We’re there
We’re going far
And we go deep
There are barriers
We make them for each other
And ourselves
But on the other side
Yes, there we will have something
All our rewards
In the arrival
We will have everything
We will be loved, at last
We will be loved
By the universe
Maybe on Earth it hasn’t
Gone so well
But here
Wherever here
There is something grand to do
Every day
Forever
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Affectionately Yours
x
All the things
That drive us to aberrant
Distraction, should
We let them:
What if our autonomics
Fail and I must be responsible
For breathing, blinking
The beating of my heart?
You see,
That won’t happen
But we can get into states
From time to time
x
As if the wrong angel
On my shoulder
Has been given too much sway
And I have let
The silent one
Stay silent in its wisdom
x
The demons call
Now and then
With sugar-words
And honeyed expectation
They must seem irresistible
In certain moments
x
But utter no,
Laugh
Move on—there,
You’ve removed the
Curse and thus joined
The anti-damnation league
Whose numbers
Are unknown
Whose fee is nil
But do they shine
In Parousiac moments
x
C L Couch
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The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis
x
angel in a cemetery, weathered by time but still a powerful image
Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash
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