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clcouch123

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clcouch123

In conversation, I prefer Christopher. My mom named me after Christopher Robin, after all. In writing, I use “C L Couch” (or, more simply, “c l couch”) because the form is genderless and also frankly easier to use. I have awful writer’s cramp. I am an educator more or less retired, more or less due to disability. At present, I live in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania (USA). My writing here I mean to be occasional and also devotional. Either or both. The banner and profile photographs are by my friend and peer Debra Danielson. More of Debbie’s work to be enjoyed is at debradanielson.org. Thanks to each of you and both and all for coming to my blog.

Worship

Worship

 

Worship must have been

Brutal, then

Fierce dancing to fierce rhythm

All sorts of things prepared

To sacrifice to God

Where the divine had any interest

In such rites

(how did they know?)

Ready to let blood

Human wine

For penance and redemption

In the world where crops were

Eradicated too easily

Enemies banded ‘round to take out

Any towns or collections of

Humanity trying to set along

The river’s edge or in the center of

Even a place of hiding

Too easily exposed

 

Or maybe it was grand

A city on a hill

Still the gods need something of us

To turn attention there

To give us weather

Or health enough

To go another year

 

No notion of indifference

A neatly civilized invention

The worship here

Must match

Barbaric nature with the

Barbaric parts of us

There was awful authenticity

Because the only choice

Was awe

This was a fearful task

Reaching a god

To know its name

To know what it wants

Or left to guessing the rituals

Demanded in a world of

Circling barbarity

With no neat form, no room for

Showing up

Life was on the line

To hope in every baleful way

That God might answer

 

We don’t want it back

Why should we?

Though we’ve lost the awe

In awesome,

The part that means to fear the Lord

Not as in scared

(though that)

But in respect that God is there

Might be set over a scale

Might be listening

Not for what’s refined

Something that’s raw

As from the scoured human heart

The table might be symbol

But inside, where the marks are

God can reside

Wildly there

 

So what do we do

At evening or at sunrise?

Or when we feel we’ve wakened up

Enough?

We can find God

Too easily

Before we’re ready

We might have a sibling conflict

Or no notion of our Sunday best

God will take us on

Together, one by one

Maybe not fierce worship

But something honest

Tears rather than

Blood

Focus rather than rage

Though through it all, whatever,

Love as well as fear

For God is God

Not wanting us to quake

Perhaps

But recalling first obedience

Afterward, attending

To the second

 

Have worship, then

Leave afterward

Taking something of the altar

With you

Like a burning coal set inside

Something that will never burn

Away,

The part of God that’s present

Not without expectation

Not always well-behaved

But always loved

 

Come back to me

Come back again

I am with you now

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash

 

4

Around

Around

 

You should have a good day

You deserve it

If it’s not today,

Keep it

In your pocket

Or your bag

Then pick a day

To bring out when you need it

Saying to yourself,

This is a good day for me

And there should be enough

For someone else

Share it

If only a wish

For that one to have

A good day, too

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Miguel Á. Padriñán from Pixabay

 

3

If I Were a Teen

If I Were a Teen

(in pandemic time)

 

If I were a teen,

I’d read a book, I guess

Something touchable to do

I’d go outside as often

As I could,

Though the freedom

Would be limited

Because I’d have to talk

With friends six feet away

And never play

If we wore gloves

(latex inside leather),

Could we play catch?

 

I might have a phone

And thankful for

The blanking skills I have

To focus on the screen,

Missing everything

Else around me

I’d play something,

I suppose, on the computer

Gaming with my friends

Making new ones

As teammates across

The world, perhaps

If only in

Competition

I’d have meals with my

Family, because that would

Become important

Maybe I’d eat less and

More often

I’d take walks for exercise

Volunteer to walk the

Dog, if I have one

I’m sure there are calisthenics

To go through inside

But really

 

This would be the strangest

Time for me

I should be in school, though

There might be good things

In being away

But after a while I might

Find it all ridiculous

How do I finish my grade?

Do I start over?

Will what I have to do at home

Be enough?

Will I know what

I really need to know?

 

Maybe I’d learn something

New

Maybe I’d re-appreciate

My siblings, if I have them

Maybe I’d also

Try not to be afraid

Because people I know

Or I

Might get sick

Or might die

I hear the numbers

Of people doing each

 

I’ll do chores

And try not

To drive anyone at home

Crazy, crazier

Because that could get serious

I’ll try to be thankful

Though at my age

That’s hard

But not impossible

This time is not impossible

 

C L Couch

 

Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

 

6

Elsewhere

Elsewhere

 

Is there war elsewhere

Maybe where you are

But maybe guns were held up

And the loading of them

Fingers withheld from buttons

Launching missiles

Or the switches from grenades

It’s a question that pandemics

Might quiet war, some

 

There will be violence

People shoot each other

Stab and hit with whatever

Nations have agendas against

Nations, this nation

Among them

 

But might the fear of illness

Death from infection

Become an agenda, too

And might our attention be mislaid

From war, if only for a while

So that we might attend to this

Instead, something the world

Should attend to

 

And could it be that noises change

From the usual reasons to

Others: ailments, hospital workers,

Ambulances for the sick,

Mourning from disease instead

Of how we do each other

 

When it’s done

When that might be

We might all take a breath

And then another

And maybe take a salient moment

Then another

To rethink, if only some

The business of war and the

Destruction only we can make

There might be peace in treatment

Let some make it last

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jp Valery on Unsplash

 

1

Petition

Petition

 

There’s pain everywhere,

And I don’t think I’m

Doing

Much about it

Issues in the neighborhood

Still stand

In the house are

Grievances unspoken, which go

Better than confrontations

Bearing fruit in violence,

If only verbal

 

And so with all

The awfulness that’s

Really going on—sickness,

Death,

Wanting to rush around

The scientific process

 

For fear of more

That’s terrible—I ask

Maybe we ask

For something better than we

Tend to be

A cure

At least a treatment for more

Than symptoms (though

grateful for that),

Frankly, a beatific day

Not until tomorrow

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Adina Voicu from Pixabay

 

0

Favored

Favored

(a prayer)

 

So God

What will you have

My heart

It’s yours

My head

I’m not sure what all is in there

(or the heart)

But sure it’s yours

My muscles

All the nerves

The organs as they are

Some with extra parts

Some not working much at all

You want them

Sure

Okay

My spirit must be in there

Somewhere

Somewhere my soul

You want my soul

Dear Lord

All right

I don’t know how to turn it over

So you’ll have to teach me

Maybe it starts with this

Create in me a clean heart

O God

And renew a right spirit

Within me

I don’t how that happens either

Maybe I could learn this

From an angel

Or another agent

Of yours in the world

 

Help my unbelief

For the world that you allow

Is filled with snares

And I am good at getting caught

Unwrap the rope

From my heel

The chain around my chest

The mask that has no eyes

Over my spirit

Free me as you will

As you conspire

Maybe I could add to the favor

For another

 

Thank you for will

Though sometimes I think

I’d do better without it

Though to think about again

I’d hate the puppet string

(claustrophobic

or whatever is

the fear of being captured)

If my will is something else you’d like

All right

Gentle as a dove

Wise as a serpent

It’s all yours

 

C L Couch

 

 

Psalm 51:10

Mark 9:24b

(Matthew 10:16b)

 

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

New Jersey Institute of Technology, Newark, United States

 

0

Plague Daze

Plague Daze

 

The day is Shakespeare’s birthday

The day he was christened

His death was around the same date, too

Someone took the head

From the grave

 

The governor wants to open the state

Though people are still dying

The economy is life-and-death, too,

At least to politicians

Corporate deciders

Two groups so out of touch

What do they know of life but

How to turn it toward a matter of

Control?

 

I feel the air

Reopening would bring

Simply to think about it

The lifting off the shoulders of

The weight of shutting-in

Factories open

Schools resume, somehow

All the pubs along the second street

Invite us in again

 

But readers of “The Masque” can

See the lunacy in attitude

Alone without a treatment

A thousand sixteen hundred twenty-two

Dead in Pennsylvania,

One state among

Many states

How is it where you are?

Do you want to know?

I don’t, here or there

I want to have a pint in Boiling Springs

As I’ve never enjoyed one before

 

But here and there it is

Now the announcement that

Certain testing sites are closing

Everyone it seems

Wants to be normal

Well, why not?

Why not, because it’s far from done

We’ve left it now a

Game of dodge-ball

Hope you’re not hit

Me, too

The danger is for all of us

All of us connected like

Scratches on an antique metal plate

A month away, we think we’ve had

Enough

 

C L Couch

 

 

Source: Esri; Johns Hopkins

 

Photo by Edu Lauton on Unsplash

 

5

Dirt Gospel

Dirt Gospel

 

I like earth

Don’t you?

Some might prefer concrete

I’ll take a covering of pine needles

To walk upon

Breathe air that’s evergreen

Then move out to an open

Space of grass and rock and dew

That takes us home

That would be a day

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Gabriel Jimenez on Unsplash

 

0

Lamentation

Lamentation

 

God,

I glean the earth, it seems

Looking for seeds and other parts of plants

The farmers and the birds

Have missed

It is late autumn, and I

Wonder what is mine

What I deserve, if

Even these upon the ground

That two tries

Wouldn’t take

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Dave Francis on Unsplash

 

2

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