Confession on the Edge of Something

I want
To know you
Walk with you
I want
To hear you
Though I guess
I want
To hear you my way
In a gentle conversation
Though we could
Talk
Of anything
Not the stentorian
Some are sure you are
Your voice
Must be

Your posture in
The cosmos
Leaning over planets
You have made
Course-correcting
Comets
For the timing of foreboding
Forestalling barbarians
At the gate
Maybe for a time

And I
And mine
Only a step above
Because
Well
How many of us
Feared for Y2K

And should we listen
Should we read judiciously
Of nature
And the pages
Of our own
The stories that like pillows
We might stitch across
The centers
So to say
Here is something
Please hear it

We might understand
The tones of God
Of you
Early morning
By the heat of day
Or when it’s freezing
In the evening when
We celebrate
Or come to rest
And could hear
If we wanted
Still
Small voices

If like the peace
That has gone by understanding
Like the hare
We could catch up
With you
Not by racing
But by stopping
Now and then
An easy SVE
And have a thought or two
For where we are

To find out
We surpass the hare
Expenditure
Or tangled in something
It could not be free of
By the road

Distraction
I guess
Of many something shiny

So we win
The course
By persisting
Simply moving on
Then stopping
When we need to
To hear
To look
To touch
To smell
To taste
Trying the sense of time
As well
That the world waits
Not waiting

And how about
That spiritual sense
Of things
The thing inside
The presence
The thing outside
Another kind
Of presence
Bidding come inside
The invitation
Made
The knock is given

And shall we open
Shall I open
To have you come inside
To talk with me
In chairs
With drinks
And over time
To stay
So that I wonder whose is whose
And make mistakes through
Fear of that
While you wait
Wherever inside
I let you
Until you have free reign
(I wonder where that came from)
Over everything inside
Even through my senses
Even through my
Will
That seems to be the challenge
The big deal
Enough to have
Broke Eden
Enough to make me tussle with my own
The wrestling with desire
And the fear
Of desire
‘Til I might get that right with you
By you
As well

And all be well
(dear Julian
with cat)
Though there’s that peace
That goes ahead
Of all the understanding
All the limits by
Mortal conveyance
Lest we sit with you
And listen
Also speak
Of truth
And also love
So many things to get right
Even in
A final hour

Thank you for responding
To my invitation
Poor for time and talking space
Only my own
And rudely certainly
Against worldly or heavenly
Refinement
That you know
But we could
If we may
If rather shapelessly
In words
And plans
Get things started
For good faith
And living
Anyway

C L Couch


Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.com on Unsplash