(x = space)
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God Inside
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God inside
Next to the spark
Gently suppling air
Ready for cupping
Should there be
A blast
Working through
The arteries
From outside
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C L Couch
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Heart model to explain how the heart works to patients.
Photo by Robina Weermeijer on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Ultra People
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I’m not an action figure
Never was
Don’t need the cape
Like Superman
Or the long coat
Of Doctor Who
Don’t need a phonebooth
To the stars
Unless I really, simply want
To explore
x
Don’t have powers
Death rays from the eyes
And such
Don’t need to fly
Without an airplane
Or balloon
(though I really, really wish I could)
Don’t need to have
My brain increased
Extra organs
Added
Preternatural strength for
Fighting vampires or
Solving the universe
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I am me
You are you
Without the uniforms
Or leagues
We’re still okay
Viable for God
And planet Earth
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C L Couch
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Puerta de Alcalá by Night
Photo by Jose Antonio Gallego Vázquez on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Gambia
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Most of the victims
Came from Gambia,
Which is in
Africa
So if you’re not in the Bronx
Or hip to Africa
Or a citizen of the world,
You might think
Nothing to do with me
(with you)
But like the car tracks
In a race,
The threads around a badge,
The scuffs on any old thing
That’s round,
Well,
There is connection
The relationships go on
The consequences
Shared
The human race enlivened
Or withered
By what we do
What we think
You and me
Right now
x
Let’s look up Gambia
And follow news about
The fire in the Bronx
That killed
So many
New Yorkers
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God take them home
While we mourn and
Work it out here
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C L Couch
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New York Bronx fire a ‘shock in our country’ Gambia ambassador says
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Fire on the river coast, Autumn
Photo by Egor Vikhrev on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Diocletian Martyr
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In my cell I see a bird
I think the bird is
The spirit of God
I don’t know for sure
Until the bird speaks,
Speaks to me
Without words
This is a real cell
A cell from which I will be taken
To die
At the hands of one
Who can command it
Though cannot command anything
About my soul
God has come to comfort me
To tell me I belong to God
And will be meeting
With God, soon
In a closer way
I could not know on Earth
The pain might be quick
It might be long
The bird does not tell me,
Imperial will having its own way
Despotic yet
Graced with freedom
As is mine*
x
I could have been quiet
I needn’t have said anything
When questioned
Or at the corner
Where I told the story
Of God’s goodness,
Standing on the edge
Of all I knew
And soon would lose
I don’t know what happens next
In terms of what I gain
Maybe a mansion
Maybe nothing
I don’t permit myself an expectation
But relationship
Knowing my loved ones
Once here,
Beholding curing
Of my enemies
And me of them
x
Before the Lord
And the Lord
Who might dance with me
While the angels sing
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C L Couch
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*(in freedom
maybe grace
we are all despots)
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Looking Up
Photo by Prince David on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Puritan Winter
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Snow covers
Rain reveals
Ice seals it all in
Now comes the
Revealing time,
The winter
Against all our
Boasted showings
The green is gone
The brown and black reveal
Who we are
What we have
How plain it can become
Without verdant protection
Without the sheen
Of summer
x
But this is good
We have the chance
To be ourselves,
To rely ourselves
On heat
And goodness from above
Below
The goodness of our neighbors
And the sovereignty
Of God above
Below
Wherever is
Creating
And the mortal need
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C L Couch
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Migrating birds over the misty forests of Norway.
Photo by Fredrik Solli Wandem on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Anchorite Devotion
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I cherish
Quiet in a cup
To drink
When I need some
Peace on a plate
When a bite is needed
Some silence in the air
But not so much
We cannot hear
The songs
Of earth and sky
The thrumming from beneath
To feel
The sighing from so high
We dare not
On an ordinary day
To try
x
A homespun layer
Maybe two layers
For the day
And through the night
A few words of friendship
And a few more
Then intimate,
Unspoken words
With God
x
There is a book
Of hours and another
Sometimes wisdom’s
In the page
In the part between
The letters
As well the illustrations
The space in which
We first learn
That blank space is the quiet
We may go there
Then to learn
About the mystery
The text
And images support
But can’t fill yet
As if to know the words
To speak with angels
And with animals
And with the air
x
All things the creator makes
To set in humming motion
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C L Couch
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Statue of Julian of Norwich by David Holgate, west front, Norwich Cathedral.
By Poliphilo – Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19972764
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(x = space)
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God of Storms
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The sky let go last night
I drove through
Snow on snow
With an audiobook
For company
My guardian angel up above
The car
Inside the storm,
Laughing at
What God hath wrought
Inside the night
White under black
Squeegee of tires
Up to traffic lights
Hoping that each car
Would stay where it belonged
As my tires
Turned the wrong way
Tried to do
A contest with
The storm of Ba’al on
The altar of the Lord
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C L Couch
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snowfall in december
Photo by Jessica Fadel on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Will What You Will
(2022)
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It is the last day
Of the Christmas season
Marred last year
By crimes
Twelve drummers drumming
In a drumhead court
For some
x
The rest of us take down
Our trees and lights
Burn the skeletons of trees
In the town square
At least that happened
In my town
x
We sang the last of carols
For a while
The nation need remember
That some gatherings are good
Some spectacles
Modest with intent
And execution
x
Grant us wisdom, Lord,
The meaning of the season
As is said
Not so much sectarian
As loving in and from
The hearts and minds
We have
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C L Couch
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Photo by Michael Descharles on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Back from There Again
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Took a drive around and over
Through the mountains
Through tunnels
Up angles, down
The rounded Appalachians
Blue Ridge, Alleghenies
No rain or snow this time
There was wind
To blow my little car around
Clouds and sunshine vied
I got back
Hobbiton looks the same
Regarding what I left
Today,
I can only hope the cancer treatments
Work for him
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C L Couch
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Photo by Sean Foster on Unsplash
Appalachians at midday.
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