Salvation Chair
Really
Now
And should the Spirit
Come to call
After the dancing
For the sky
After all the lights released
Half
A world on
That’s felt
One’s own half of the world
After ingesting
All petitions
In all the other continents
Even on the
Needful
Melting fields
To the south
And north
Between the poles
It stops
To dwell a while
In my
Clay house
And maybe find a room
For me
In a truly quiet hour
While I give all the rest over
To
Possession
And renewal
At the same time with
All other crises
And the stretched-out needs
So
Casually asked
Sometimes
Please
Sit
Have something
While I work out with you
How to have
My own
On both sides of enigma
That is
Mystery
Of faith
That is
Saved
When given over
C L Couch
Anne Bradstreet, a prominent Puritan poet, employed the “clay house” metaphor in her work. In her poem “As Weary Pilgrim,” she reflects on the impermanence of the physical body and the longing for spiritual rest. Here are some lines from that poem:
A pilgrim I, on earth, perplext
wth sinns wth cares and sorrows vext
By age and paines brought to decay
and my Clay house mouldring away
Oh how I long to be at rest
and soare on high among the blest.
https://www.poetry.com/poem/3075/as-weary-pilgrim,-now-at-rest
(the note before the excerpt by Copilot)
Photo by Asim Hamid on Unsplash
Love’s Labors
I rock
While cross-legged
On the bed
I think it helps
To stretch out small parts
Of my lower back
I think
I breathe
Like thinking
I am quiet
Letting the world go around me
While I think about
The very thing
The world
All its troubles
All the better possibilities
With
Faith
Hope
And love
Sorry if that’s trite
As I should sound cleverer
Uniquer
In a poem
But these are the answers
Have been for two thousand years
Reflecting older teaching
And the laws
From Deuteronomy
That now
You don’t have to read
Though it wouldn’t hurt you
(much)
To know that love has come from God
And was the goodness in creation
And the reason
For first promises
Even for provisions when
We were cast out of Eden
Though the sweat of labor
For the man
And the real sweat of labor
For the woman
Wasn’t fun
And maybe still within the garden
We’d have worked
We’d have birthed
Without all the sweat
And all the pain
That we’ve learned to make
Philosophy
And a marketplace
To say that sweat and pain are actually
Good things
And you should buy our
Reasoning
Along with our products
And our memberships
But then
As far as relegation
Goes
Why not accept
And make the most of things
We must work
We must bear children
As we do
And while the process hurts
The product of pay
Is all right
And certainly
What comes with woman’s labor
Is a source
For joy
Delight in the present
While remarkable has happened
Toward the future
And maybe God and angels
Sweat and even
Hurt with us
Through everything
And there are
Times
When it’s hard
When I imagine we don’t care about
Divine sponsorship
Maybe after
Maybe not
Though we could thank the Lord
And the angels
When the job goes well
When a child is born
And for the mother
We work under a curse in all endeavors
Which sounds terrible
But that’s
You know
The way things are
‘Til dawning
Of the new age
When all pain is tabulated
Health restored
Hurt dismissed
And then
All the apologies in heaven
Divine
With what was mortal
May begin
C L Couch
Photo by eze cmf on Unsplash
thy faithfulness and 14 June
(two poems)
thy faithfulness
and now for God
though maybe
God has been with me
from the start
because if not my own
it’s in
God’s nature
and certainly God’s
skill
and also
desire
the same desire
that made everything
and more
the wish
the will
to love the everything
and above all
and with the will of
unfallen angels
to love most
ourselves
we are that important
not for demons
whose interest in consumption
is not the healthy use of
creation
but frankly
to suck us dry
of flesh and spirit
and then display the husks
eagerly
in hell
but we have God
and willful angels
elected
on our side
and in the room
though will leave us quiet
when quiet
is soulfully
or physically demanded
quiet
time
and should we wish
some company
divine
with less than a word
shall be here
to cheer
and to guide
to love
and to show
how love
begins and ends
with presence
one form
or
another
14 June
(2024)
happy
Flag Day
Mitzi’s birthday
the puppy
(not the flag)
who crawled up
on the porch
the day our family
moved
into Pittsburgh
northern suburbs
and remained with us
the next
seventeen years
and was
extraordinary
patient with
several
growing children
as for the flag
you know
we flew it
very day
I recall
there are some things it seems I wrote about most years; today is a thing
c l couch
photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
Relegation
O God
Which is an invocation
We’re asking
You
Here and now
And are we aware
Of what we’re asking
No
Liturgically
Demanding
In
Your showing up
You’re God
And if so
The maker
And the real mover
Of
Well
Reality
All-knowing
So we say
And all powerful
Though
It’s easier
Secular
To believe invisible
And far away
That clockmaker
Having
Made and maybe
Set the clock
So long ago
Then left us to
Construct our own
Devices
Maybe
In our skill
Or lack thereof
To negotiate
Someday
To melt that primal clock
As
A Dali-like
Face-making
That is
Poured over parts
Of a parched Earth
But really
As we do things
(except
for invocation)
We could use you
Far away
And so keep our
Maybe fearing you
Also
Distant
And untested
In fact
Also
With cheek
Keeping your name
Inside our word-hoards
Available
For cursing
Or for sex
(is it
to bless the sex)
So
Such is irony
Such are
The ironies
And this is
Such
Strange wondering
As if to place you in a box
Maybe officially
To relegate you there
Until we need you
For
A ceremony
For
A clean and distanced blessing
Now and then
To complement in
Name
(whatever name)
Whatever ritual
We’ve made
Or
Somehow adapted from
The beginning
Words
So whom
Do we invoke
Just now
Whom do we ask
To call
And through our calling
Bring you here
In everything you are
And then
Even
To sing
To benedict
You
Away
Very God
Or distant God
Preeminent
Out of the way
Again
Then maybe
For an hour
Of the clock
Next
Time
Or maybe less
Then dare
We say
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Visual Karsa on Unsplash
Well and Good
(ironic)
Oh
God
I haven’t thought
So much of you today
Weighed
Down
By my perceptions
The license that I give to stress
And even honest pain that
Doesn’t ask
For this
Forgive me
I guess
Though I’ll be doing it
Again
And
Venial or mortal
I typically can’t
Tell
So that confession
Is not a bust
Though I’m sure
A disappointment
Sigh
What shall I do
To be a servant and
Myself
To serve another
Too
And to serve you
I know
Which should be
First
Sigh again
This might be a loop
If not a cycle of
Post-Edenic rebellion
Which
We set up
As it were
At the start
But is my nature
Always enough
To explain
While I have will
As we always have discretion
Even difficult
In the moment
But I’m sorry
And I’ve thought of you
For seconds
Now
Such a big deal
And should I wake up
In my anchorite cell
Even with a car
For company
A holy cat
By its own calling
Once retrieved
The gray stone
With a specific symbol
On the wall
And a few pages
By the bed
Made out of
Nature
Meaning
Natural things
To know that I’m devout
And here to serve
The people of today
In a world
That maybe strives to rise
Or to wallow
Though I must
Keep the vision
For all of us
That may
Allow ourselves to rise
Maybe through the window
And the windowed world
I have
To look out on the other
To wait
For the inevitable
And then to wait
As in to serve
Responding to their need
And how they
How you
Say it
Then all should know
And you may know
At last
That I am with
All the time
By my own will
My time and style
Though here I am
For now
Small-town
Me for now
With all my errant loves
And wish
I could
Do better
Though for lack of djinn
And also resolution
Remains a wish
Among wishes
For faith
Or for a pony
(again
sorry
and amen)
C L Couch
Photo by José Alejandro Cuffia on Unsplash
(psst, we’re busting out of here tonight—my caption, sorry
and in part of the poem-prayer I’m channeling Saint Julian)
gospel according to Douglas
what is the loving thing
to do
what my evangelist friend
would say
as a good question
annoying question
sometimes
even daunting
when we
want
the unloving thing
to do
because we’re jealous
or frankly covetous
wanting something we have turned
into an object
(or an object)
or
(with regard to envy)
we want something
or else
in someone else
to go away
none of this
is loving
not even of
oneself
that does not need the plans
and then the consequences
of success
in those
an ersatz love
a bent love
to be honest
if honesty
be first casualty
in twisting
the better parts
in what we want
what is the loving thing
to do
not weighed
down
except in service
though there's rest
that is
the sleep
comes after
for the day
for the life
c l couch
(Douglas was an evangelist friend of mine who consistently said to ask, and act, on that as the first question or the one to which we might repentantly arrive, later)
photo by Melanie Lim on Unsplash
Food distribution in a pandemic.
published on December 28, 2020
Awestruck
God come through that door
And I shall be
Terrified
Which is part of the awe
That God deserves
With the reason why the angels
Say so often
Be not afraid
This might be difficult
Though it’s
Finally
Good news
That makes more officially
A gospel
Of the Lord
With us
An Immanuel
Time and again
Angels on assignments
A voice
A gesture
That could bring down Jericho
Or Midian
Or approve the execution
Of Holofernes
Nothing to see
Except in accidental daring
While most of those
Who hear
Do not see
Except in the world changed
After
Supplication
The results
An affirmation
Too
Of a holy presence
So much more than us
And also
Quite frankly
Inside us
Of a kind of molecule
Our machines
Have yet
To count
So seek the Lord
Or wait for being sought
For
We should find each other
To have experience
A history
Of faith
And what we hope for
The action
And the learning from
Tandem theology
With the only agenda
That is
Acceptable
So we may plan
With details
Then have
And then testify
To grace
As approval
C L Couch
Photo by Bamdad Norouzian on Unsplash
3 poems and each might stand (I hope) though together indicate a consequential process
What It Takes
The clock
Caught my attention
Because the hour
Had just turned
I prayed
Some praise
Some gratitude
Confession
Both for what I did
And what I should have done
An asking
Words about love
More thanks
A kind of pledge
About doing better
Then
Amen
I prayed what I meant
To pray
And looked up
Caught by the clock again
Four minutes
Four minutes
Maybe a hundred words
Out of this hour
And this day
Of such greater length
God willing
Imbalanced
I know
Terrible things have happened
In the past
And in the present
And we could guess into the future
But we’re taken up with
Wounds
And hunger
Inside ruins
Newly made
And if we could only keen
For natural disasters
Eruptions
Other explosions
Fires we say that rage
Winter storms
With hail
Sudden deprivations
From what developed
Unexpectedly
Then fell
Or rose upon us
Destroyed some of part of us
And will try for more next
Time
And time again
We could devote our science
And our military
Toward prevention
Preparation
Rescue
Restoration
And it would be hard
And often would be sad
And worse in tragedy that
Tears at us
As wars compounded
And the crimes we make
Tear at us
Even deeply
More bloodied
Threatening to take out
All the vital things
That make us
Us
The awfulness of now
And how we do things
Though not everything
Revealing
Promise
In an hour of today
When we let the fields and towns
By plan or by surprise
Be silent
And then we let in
Aid
Or help each other
Anyway
There’s hope in us
You see
Some want annihilation
Crazily
Some go for anarchy
Alike
And some are merely profiteering
On which side
Every side
That buys
But there’s that part
That quiet part
That then protests
That stands in front of weapons
Without weapons
Teaching us
Reminding us
Of how to stand
And how to act
To give ourselves a chance
All of us
The human race
To be
Simply to be
And then do better
With better
Vital
Parts of us
Don’t Forget the Two Parts Out of Three
Then
Or in the midst of it
There’s time
And willingness
To play
Even on a square we find
And sticks
And fashioning round things
For our
Projectiles
Or with time
We go to our closets
Root around
And
(funny)
Root for roots
The ancient games
With gloves and such
We used to play
And might not fit
But we’ll use
Something
And we’ll recreate
Which also might recall
How we had been made
To work
To play
To rest
The first
Time with
Our families
Or friends we met as children
On the street
(urban
suburban
sural)
And then picked up
The games
And rested after
In the shade
And then
Took jobs
And thought the rest
Unnecessary
Even rest
(in the shade)
Though we can have that
Now again
And should
C L Couch
Photo by Callum Hill on Unsplash
Spirit Love
Have I said
Something spiritual
Today
Like remembering
“I love you”
To a mate
God makes everything
Sustains
To say the least
The bigger parts
And out of love
That everything
Might be
Saved at last
To everything
Within a land
Where all matters
Matter
And could we return the love
A little
Through a word
Some words
Even
A substitutionary action
Unto one of these
Who are like God
To do this for
And by the way
(unforgetting
in the moment)
To be saved
We are small
The stakes are high
They are
Shall we leave unhinged
The gates of reason
And of love
Or shall we leave together
All the spirit
To connect us
And to bind us
Still
With room to breathe
To view through ourselves
To another
To the world
Screwed up by us
Or Satan
Yet made for good
In fact
Made good
The process
And our process
Reflect
The making
If we will
And if we raise each other
To the task
C L Couch
Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash
clcouch123 
Recent Comments