Dust Bunnies after Easter
Breathe in green
Even under gray
A rainy day
Around here
After Easter
Which doesn’t change a thing
Doctrinally
And
Anyway
I rather like the gray
That let dust bunnies
Out
To play
Their chocolate cousins
Reigning free
The day before
Now chomped away so that
The versions made
Of crumbs and such
May have
Today
To play
And should the sun
Come out
Well
That’s all right
Dust bunnies will be tired
And will be ready
For the time
To nap
Inside cool shadows
(you know where they are)
Under
Things
C L Couch
(thoughts on this day after Easter being a rainy day, no fooling)
Photo by lilartsy on Unsplash
some poems for Easter, if you will
Easter where It’s Easy
I put things
In small baskets
Left them at
The neighbor’s doors
Came back upstairs
Let oxygen return
To my limbs
(heart disease
not being
good
for nimbleness)
There
That’s Easter done
In some months
No doubt
The Great Pumpkin
Shall return
Oh
Yeah
There’s the part
Where Christ arose
From the grave
Defeating death
Securing life
For everyone
Believing
There’s that
For Easter
Too
Beyond suburbanites
Like me
You know
I could have left things
Only for
The neighbors
Whom I like
Or those
I know at all
But then
I’m uncertain how
That might undermine
The meaning
In a holiday
And then
Christ
Well
That was for everyone
And maybe the whole Earth
And other parts
Unknown
(to us)
I think without
Favorites
Or an agnostic tally
So by comparison
And not so much
Considering
Degree
It might be that
My bits of color and
Artificial grass
Upon which is chocolate
And some crayons
Might be
For everyone
I do not know
As well
And like
The little angel
A small and silly gift
Unto
The Lord
Who lives
So we might live
This Easter
And
Always
Abashed
Evangelism
And how’s that
For perspective
But
I come around
At last
And now quiet
For blue consideration
Of the coffeemaker
And
An hour for
A strange-thinking
Fool
Day One
(for Easter)
And who shall
Shoot whom today
Where shall
A missile
Go
Who shall be dispossessed
Of home
And anything
Of safety
While working toward that
Anyway
For family
The causes should be
Bad enough
Old age
Or diseases
Even
Accidents
That happen
But the cruelty
Of human will
At play
Rendering
And rending
Oh
So much
Of us
And Earth
As if we needed reasons
For our mourning
And Christ comes down
From the cross
To weep with us
To say
Please
I have done this for you
Can you not live
Can you not like life
Enough
To act
So much more
Than bullets
Blades
And missiles
His arms out wide
Again
Over a scorched
And parching Earth
Where the graves
Know prosperity
And some
Human
Secret
Coffers
He brings them down
To embrace again
With all
The Marys there
To help
And the
Beloved
Of disciples
The art of love
Nestled now
In quiet museums
But take it outside
Please
Is his
Command
Though it sound like pleas
Spoken through blood
Toward a forsaking
God
Who never left
Who left a story
And now leaves the truth
In resurrection
For
We could all do better
We could all
Do life
And more
Would come from heaven
Toward the end
Though without guarantee
In worldly terms
(so much of Spirit
and of doctrine
frankly
invisible)
To do this
Anyway
Unwarranted
Without a warranty
Nothing like safety
Like a trophy
On a shelf
The shelf come down
Eventually
Within the ambition of
Another generation
Which means
Our reasons might
Be unseen
Too
To do them
Anyway
Do life
Do love
There
I should be at church
But I slept in
Which is itself
A kind of miracle
At least
A gift
Besides
I don’t know a church
And my hair’s too short
And I’m still
Too tired
My coffee’s warm
I need some
More
The blue light calls
As if I were
At K-Mart
There
My distractions call
And I know it’s Easter
Sunday
And that’s something
Not enough
For God
I guess
And any
Who might miss me
There
Though by my experience
There
It might seem that absence
For discretion
Rather than outright scorn
Regrets all around
Might be
Valor’s better
Way
Which is to say
That I don’t like it there
So much
They don’t like
Me
And so it’s safer here
With blue light
And more coffee
And I could
Turn on something
For a church
On Easter morn
First Family
And what happened
By that morning
When the Marys
John
Arrived
By then
There had been moments
First and only
When the Earth’s guards fell away
The stone fell
From its post
And
Inside
Well
Inside
Where we had thought
Had desert rot might happen
And instead
The area inside
Must have broke apart
For miracle
And cleanliness
(for our
suburbanite
concerns)
Was there a flash
A hidden rumble
While hell fell apart
So great
Was the escape
Were there explosions
Through the night
Of grace
And miracle
Surprise
Even
That so much should happen
Well
After three days before
When all was terrible
In loss
Of death
And cause
And hope
How did heaven and Earth
Play
In that place
That spot
Of resurrection
Of the spirit
And the body
So that the body
Left
Leaving graveclothes
Leaving everything
Of death
Behind
And gone
No death
No need for herbs
Though love had brought them there
And as it
Turns out
Witnesses
Instead
To absences
And then some words
Surprising
And portentous
To all human ears
For history
How love
Abounded
How round
And I imagine
They could play
Around the empty grave
On that first day
In the morning
When all woes
Were overtaken
By surprise
And is
Prophecy worked out
Always
A surprise
A minute
Of an hour
Of joy
And then
The world
Must know
And ready for
Rise and fall
Of faith
By evidence
Of testimony
Then appearance
More meals
Together
Then a risen Lord
For good
‘Til everything
That’s good
Returns
C L Couch
Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash
After the Day Before
(Holy Saturday 2024)
It must have been terrible
For those in sadness
And in terror
Who forgot
Or forsook
The prophecies were shared with them
The new ways to live
That scandalized
Now turned into fodder
For new charges
And arrests
It must have seemed
That everything was over
One and done
And extraordinary
Story
Abruptly ended
Like a battle
In blood and
Death
And loss or victory
While hades had the victory
And underneath
The devil had to laugh
While all they could
Do
Was peel in hiding heat
Freeze the blood from moving
Every hope
Removed
Left on that trash heap
For a hill
Three deaths
The day before
And now
Did anyone count
Toward
After
Or maybe there was only dust
Thrown on the synapse
Of the mind
Heavy stones upon
Like confession
The heart
C L Couch
Photo by Ian Keefe on Unsplash
an empty cup
(for Good Friday)
fill it with water
for we are thirsty
fill it with wine
that we might have some truth
fill it with vinegar
for discipline
fill it with blood
to sanctify the ages
fill it with love
that we might drink deep
c l couch
photo by Anita Jankovic on Unsplash
Mandatum Thursday
(in four parts)
Love-In
A new command
Not with
Exception
For a new campaign
In a self-serving
Brutal world
Plutarchy
Oligarchy
And other -archys ruling
Into strategic sets of rules
That will not stave off
Slaughter
And
Diaspora
When the time comes
For these
With the destruction of the temple
Made of stone
While the prophecies
We have
Seem to outpace
Themselves
But this temple
And each temple here
For bodies
In which the spirit of the Lord
Shall dwell
And dwells now
Without the naming
Of the flames
In scores of days
We are gathered
And I give you orders
That you
Not rule the world
But that
You love each other
There
That’s it
We’ve had our meal together
Soon one of you will leave
Then more of us
To pray
Inside a garden
While the plots unwind themselves
At last
And the tragedies
Play out
And you are scattered as a force
Then return
To each other
And your families
And friends
For where else
And to whom else
Shall you go
My having gone away
As I predicted
To you
More than once
Yes
Peter
I mean you
Though you will come with me
In an ersatz fashion
For a while
Longer
And to all of you
I say
As a new commandment
Though it is not one of the ten
Per se
And yet the reason for all these
And hardly new
But newly given you
Especially due to
The days
We live in
Now
Before the last
Yes
Love God
And each other
Love me
Please
As I love you
And the rest
Though we might fall away
Will work
Will
Last
Until we know each other
Even better
After
The coming hours
And
Days
Word to the Wise
You’d think
He would have told us
Something else
Something useful
For our lives
And for the plans
We made
Together
You’d think
He’d have a strategy
After that
Triumph in the city
While keeping the Sanhedrin
On the ropes
And even the Romans
Are guessing
Who we are
And what we want
When we say
It’s not sedition
But
Respect
For everyone
Lifting up the child
Rescuing the woman
Even speaking with the women
About doctrine
We argued
About who is first
When
Of course
We knew
We were fighting for lieutenants
And seating places
Close to him
And then
He put us in our places
Acknowledging
Our equanimity
And status
Being equals
Meaning
Of course
We all are generals
In the new campaign
To rise
And to negotiate
From strength
With all the powers
Of the world
The forces in the city
Everything that waits
As armies
Just outside the gates
Or training
In the countryside
Shall come to us
While we march out
And up
To take the land
And everything God made
And all that he commanded
Of people
And the water
And all the Earth
That
We shall share
Of course
In equal parts
Something like a legion
Under each of us
Of fighters
Who shall never tire
For being right
At last
Having the perfect leadership
At last
And then
He gives us orders
After supper
Calling us to love
Demanding it
In fact
And what kind
Of armoring
Is that
Gardening
Here I am
They do not understand
They are tired
They rest
They sleep
I can’t blame them
In a worldly way
Even though
I need them
Wakefully
And ready
For what’s next
And what’s next
But
Violence
And shame
Torn clothing
And spilled blood
From the slicing
Of my flesh
And the final
Ignominy
Death
In that terrible
Criminal
Way
And must I go
Could not we stay
And
Talk
And I could have some wine
Sweet for sustenance
Rather than gall
That shall only help
My breath
To leave my body
After
It’s perched
Upon that hill
That shall split
And show the maw of hell
Beneath
Dear God
Keep me from this
Keep me
From that
We know you can do it
There must be
Another way
Why must all end
In bitterness
The dust of death
Only a tomb
At most
And not this kindly place
To rest
But
You are God
You are commander
You are parent
You are friend
You are me
And with the other
Helping
We three must manage
All the hours
To come
They’re even on the way
Because now is the end
Of this hour
For me to ask
And you refuse
And we go on
Toward the thing
The human part of us
Has not experienced
Not emptied
Of ourselves
The last surprise
And awful
Time to go down
As they are here
With the glee of hell
Behind them
Malchus
There had to be
One final act of healing
Since all
Malchus was doing
Was to obey
An earthly master
Not having met him earlier
For all
He might have heard
And then to bleed
Because of that
Disciple
Of the lord of miracles
And teaching
So healing at last
One final
Astonishment
Before the world closes over
And he is away
Certainly by orders
Strategy
Of lies
Never to return to us
On the Earth
We know
Again
C L Couch
Photo by Zoelle Suo on Unsplash
the holy Wednesday
nondescript
without the cred
of Maundy Thursday
or Good Friday
a hump day in their holy week
and what might happen
preparations for the supper
after
maybe they would ask Jesus
why he wept
before their triumph
in the city
or maybe he would try to explain
to them again
what temple would it
that would be destroyed
and for faith
what might happen in three days
(maybe the human part
anticipating
wasn’t so sure)
and would they heal
would they argue
with the righteous
and the legalists
would Jesus spend some time with his mother
of the other Marys
who would be the rocks
above the rock
after all
would not the crowds be following
for what would happen next
having entered
with the palms then
later
giving money-changers
(no one liked them
anyway)
what for
while in cool and shadowed places
lit by religious fire
there would be plans
from rhetoric
with money
and other reasons for betrayal
these could have been furthered
holy Wednesday
too
that here is gray
with spindly trees
reaching out
somewhere
against a rain
that feels fatalistic
even knowing
what’s to come
in ritual
remembrance
and triumph not of palms
or cloaks upon the ground
but of the spirit
and the flesh
in resurrection
and the offer of the same
to the same
for each of us
by Sunday
C L Couch
Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash
bridge collapses into water in the night
the Key bridge collapses
I don’t like
heights
and this is not about me
a big ship struck the tall bridge
in the night
and the bridge fell into
deep and
dark water
the vehicles upon
the bridge
with
all the people inside
those on the ship as well
there is a “debris field”
that we can see
on the news
an iron wreck upon the water
stone pillars standing
monsters folded
cringing
on the water
and to either side
as if
wishing for the comfort
of the shore
and land
the rescuiers
look for vehicles
in water
and those we must call victims
inside cars
or trucks
underneath
it is a tall bridge
the Chesapeake’s involved
subservient
to ocean tides
that complicate
the work
collision
fire
rescues
officially from agencies
many groups
to save
or simply find
whose jobs are tested now
as if they faced
and go inside
the water as a maw
the bridge the broken teeth
inside the mouth
of Neptune
or of hell
the official word
stay out of Baltimore
today
bridge named
we know
for the writer of our freedom song
the one so difficult
to sing
at ball games
caught in the throat today
while half-
formed prayers try
to work their way
out into the darkness
‘til the sun start rising
over Baltimore
as is happening
outside my window
to the north
it’s important
like the Whitman
like
the Verrazzano
an artery not unlike
the Golden Gate
and we may suppose
precipitously
suppose
it shall be raised again
the Key
like the ensign of the nation
flew at sunrise
over the fort
in the first verse
but the wreck is hours’
old just now
and they are looking
and withdrawing from the water
who
and what might be found
by sonar and
all the limbs
so many arms and legs
reaching down
to grasp
flesh and metal
what is left of life
to retrieve
while the rest of us are learning
via screens
with views
of people ‘round a central
microphone
telling what they can tell
processing
feeling
there they deal with trauma
on the scene
over the widening scene
and radiating outward
over hours
over time as it works its way
in rings throughout the region
and the world
so fast things move
and we react
trauma works its way
requiring
dealing
everything we feel
and can’t let go of
and for now
we shouldn’t
we’ll bury
we’ll blame
we’ll fix
it will get better
while some things will always
remain broken
over water
underneath
inside the blood
so many hurt
from this
so many watching
hearing
and this is rough
learning
for it’s new
and awful
what has happened
and how it matters to us
with all the rest
that’s happening
it matters greatly
because something great
is lost for now
in tragedy
so many lives affected
wounds throughout mortality
in its time
the hope
to heal
c l couch
An image of the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore. Taken in Fort Armistead Park.
Patorjk - own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41035194
for the Crocus concert-goers in Russia
I’m sorry
and my heart is hit
by
what happened
at the Crocus
venue in Moscow
so many dead
so many
wounded
and no doubt
these days
the language goes to blame
and timely war
but sometime
in this time
we want to wonder
really
who the hell cares
I died
my family died
my friends who had hoped
for an easy time
in all the crystalline news
of massacres
were hoping frankly
thoughtlessly
and
humanly
for the relief in a good time
together
and now my friends are dead
and I am as good as gone
and I know
so many die
across the border
the near line
and on this
side
too
we wanted minutes
maybe hours
to have music
and some pleasure
taken
away
from all the sides
and to forget all sides
and like entertainments
in wartime
to leave it
briefly
and maybe in the back
re-think it
for a while
and look what happened
so many of us
and our hopes were killed
and all we want
is to feel better
if alive
and to have home
after
and
the rhetoric
that goes toward war
to go away
c l couch
photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash
the holey week
so this is
Holy Week
except for holes
we have
in planning
certain days
but come by the church
we will be open
all the time
you may kneel in darkness
or in daylight
whatever is the atmosphere
for God and you
to chat
for God will not mind
your mood
or what you have to say
if need be
God will listen
though profanity
though maybe
keep that
‘twixt yourselves
and God will answer in
a away
that most likely
will not satisfy
though there are
instant precedents
they are
in stories
mostly
though
we’ll leave
without resolve
unrecommended
maybe unbelieving
in the silence
that was shared
for God
works in God’s timing
and waiting much
is called for
or not
or something else
kairos
and a gift
we don’t know
how to ask for
and receive
in time
more than we could
ever ask
and ain’t that something
this translucent
faith business
that ain’t a business
but a gift store
without prices
where everything’s available
though we have to wait
to have it chosen
for us
what we need
in time
and we could call it
holy time
in a
holy week
c l couch
photo by Josh Eckstein on Unsplash
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