fish Friday

it’s a gray day
should it get darker
it will look more
than
a fish Friday
in Lent

we’ll hear the silence
the press
of what
will feel more

the smell of storm
for now
the taste
of dry moments

is it a desert
underneath the gray
a world
we will not recognize
has only
death to offer
after all rewards
of Earth
and us

a plane
that has no feature
(worse than deserts)
no signals
no direction
anything
to show a way
to make sense of
any steps
we might try to take
while on this
measureless
level
that might not be level
for
we could be upside-down
or inside-out

then wake up
to Friday
and it’s Lent
the season still
a still
season
have the fish
go to church
whatever

make it count
whatever
listen
watch
and learn
our faith
and our existence
might rely
on these

here
there are
symbols and signs
arrows
stones in a line
weights
to appreciate
and even try to carry
in a season

one walked this way
and every step
a burden
smoothed
wickedly
by sweat
and blood

we’re on our knees
we also
try to walk
that way
the steps now dried
through ages
wearing

ritual
the chance for meaning
or indifference
our choice
like the choice
for faith

Friday
Lent
and the other days
without fat or sugar
or without
tradition

make tradition
with the faith that is forever
that unchanges for
our ages
mutable
and
so very
needful

c l couch


photo by James Coleman on Unsplash
[photographer’s caption follows]
I took this on the 22nd of April 2019, on the day I heard of the bombing of 3 churches on Easter Day in Sri Lanka. Jesus weeps with you.