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Renovations of Divine Love

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Renovations of Divine Love

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She saw creation

In a hazelnut

The way Blake saw the universe

In a grain of sand

And microscopes would render

Microcosms,

Subatomic worlds

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As such, the world might be understood

As something to take care of

To have holiness in peelings

While there are leftovers

From the seasons

There is no trash

Each cell revealing plans

For perfection

When all shall be well

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We don’t know her name

She had a cell

Part of

The church of Saint Julian

She was God’s prisoner

By devotion

Many came outside her cell

To talk with her

About visions of the world

About someday considerations

Passed into today

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To replicate her life,

We need our version

Our version

Of a place

With a cat

Maybe with people going by

Life of a town

A neighborhood

A city block

A farm

We need time without calling it

Time

It is devotion

It is service that is easy

As in receiving love is easy

And honing faith

A pursuit of both

Earthly and ethereal

Delight

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C L Couch

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Photo by Hatice Yardım on Unsplash

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Metamorphoses

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Metamorphoses

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Exhale

Breathe through the eyes

On a blank page

Maybe the muse will whisper

Maybe not

Don’t we want

To take credit for our work?

I guess if we get help

Who’s to know about the muses?

They have nine names,

None of which we remember

Except Calliope,

The organ-like device

We used to hear at carnivals,

The quainter gatherings

In the USA

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Do the gods

Visit on us here?

We have reruns of Xena

But does Zeus

Accost women here,

Later turning them to swans?

Does Apollo drive a golden chariot

Across the sky?

Do the Eumenides

Offer or receive libation

On behalf

Of mortals

Or against us,

Depending on our decisions

And our actions?

They would have met the other gods

Those of creation

And the forest

And the desert

And the sky

The spirits of

The Olmecs

And the Toltecs

Maya and Aztec

The Anasazi

And the Pueblo

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I wonder how it went

When Jesus of the Europeans

Met the sun and harvest,

Weather gods

Of the Powhatan

Just outside of Roanoke

The colony

Where barriers met

Open trees

And waterways

I don’t mean to romanticize

The Powhatan had their problems

But to say the least

They were there first

They were here

First

I wonder how it goes

When gods meet gods

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C L Couch

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Photo by samson tarimo on Unsplash

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Paradise Neither Lost nor Found

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Paradise Neither Lost nor Found

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It is not the best of times

Just now

I have to own that part

Of the Dickens

Narration

Too many sick

I know

And there is war

Infamous

Famously defended

I’d like to know the wisdom

Of the ages

Those who contemplated

Long ago

How to redeem the mind

And sanctify the heart

How did they do it

When we’re so

Smarter now

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How may I call up

Desert mothers

Desert fathers

My might I stir

My own kind of Celtic blood

That came to northern shores

And tried to have companionship

With nature and each other

Until organized, metallic

Factions entered

And took over

Slew what did not submit

Killed what submitted

Anyway

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That’s my northernness

I guess

I guess I like it well enough

I’d like to know yours

And what you have from the

Southern half

Because you might

Have that

East or west

As interesting

Exciting

The fascination of our differences

Shared in easy friendship

Easy joy

The direction points aren’t bad

Unless you make them

Points of dominion

Or points of fear

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Fear not

We can come toward each other with

Fingertip excitement

Passing through time

And sentiment

To share a call that says

The Earth is one

We are one

We are one and one and one

And one

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C L Couch

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If she doesn’t mind, I’d like to dedicate this work to Judith Nilan who wrote so kindly of me recently and whose friendship is cherished by me and by anyone else who is her friend, I’m sure.  You should read her blog because it would be good for you.  Her blog address is https://stonefireblog.com/.

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Photo by Solen Feyissa on Unsplash

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Peace to You

Now are the times of Orthodox Easter, Passover, and Ramadan.  Praying for blessings to all the faithful.

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Peace to You

(John 20 and elsewhere)

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Peace to you

The teacher showed up saying

Peace

If God appeared

In the room

We were in

Then words of peace

Might be needed

To still our hearts

And keep them working

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God shows up

In the room

Alive in every way

(later we’ll share meals)

Except in expectation

For we had thought

Never to see

Or hear the words again

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Scars from nails

And a spear

Maybe the marks of thorns

On the brow

God appears again

God with us again

Immanuel

The end of

Maranatha

Folk at the center of the world

May suggest

While those outlying

Hear the story

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There is life again

Three days’ waiting

We weren’t counting

We forgot

All prophecy

And understanding

Thomas,

God lives again

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C L Couch

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Cross with Dove and Red Cloth in Pirenopolis, Brazil

Photo by Emily Crawford on Unsplash

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In a Word

(x = space)

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In a Word

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The gospel in a word is love

So goes a song

And it is

Gospel, song, or word

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The reason for the actions

And the stories

The meaning of everything

(there, you were wondering)

Is love

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Love precedes judgment

And is precedent

It precedes creation

And was the reason for it

Don’t worry, it is practical and smart

It is reasonable

And sounder than reason

For it lasts and is unwarranted

It outlasts our philosophy schools

And business strategies

And even plans for war

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It fortifies all decent purposes

Makes relations possible

Between all sorts of people

Plans

And nations

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It ends war

Keeps many wars from starting

It is the reason why we feed

And water

And clothe

Ourselves and everyone

Everywhere

It is the reason why we go to work

Or school

And why we come home after

It is home

And family

And self

And God

Civil society

It is why we move forward

And come back

Strength for today

Bright hope for tomorrow

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The first song concludes

(at least in my youth group)

Love your neighbor

As we’ve heard

From long ago

In many texts

And songs

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As it is

As it really is

Our lives go on

Conclude

Having begun

With love

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C L Couch

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“Great Is Thy Faithfulness” is a hymn from the 1920s by Chisholm, Runyan, and Schrotenboer.  The other song alluded to is called “Love, Love, Love, Love”; it is a more contemporary song and is often sung as a round.

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Photo by Michael Maasen on Unsplash

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Vacant

(x = space)

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Vacant

(Holy Saturday)

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A day for scurrying

Like mice in light

Look for food,

Hide, rest

Listening for the next

Sounds that are not yours

That might be coming for you

Or might give you away

Now add on human sadness

The living of a tragedy

Like Oedipus,

Antigone

No happy ending possible

The hero is gone

The extraordinary years are gone

There is nothing now

But flight from arrest,

Weeping as at Babylon

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Practicing tradition

In the dark

Since the source was killed

In horror

Sleeps without sleeping

Leaving everyone

To scurry to avoid arrest

To somehow persist

With broken hearts

Hope so far off

To be recalled

Stories torn

Healing forgotten

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We count this day

An in-between

They knew it only

As an empty,

Weeping nothing

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C L Couch

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Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

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(x = space)

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A gray day

For triumph

The sun avoids our eyes

We don’t look up,

Anyway

We’re not supposed to

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Who made such a world

On which we may not look at

The source of life?

But we can’t

And shouldn’t

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Look down

Look off

And on certain days of war,

The sun won’t look upon us

Either

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We’ll need Hur to hold us up

This time

On our own

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C L Couch

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John Everett Millais‘ Victory O Lord! (1871) depicts Moses holding up his arms during the Battle of Rephidim, assisted by Hur (left) and Aaron.

Originally uploaded on en.wikipedia by Paul Barlow (Transferred by lux2545), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18811161

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Blue-Rolling Justice

(x = space)

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Blue-Rolling Justice

(Amos 5:24)

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More than a trope

Don’t make a meme

(a meme would be mean)

The Lord is real

And eminent

Faster than electrons

And so much more long-lasting

Than a fashion

Let your justice roll, O Lord,

In a world that doesn’t want

To know you

Or obey you

That keeps your name

As fodder for cursing

I know, it sounds Sunday School

Or Hebrew school

Or teaching in the mosque

Or learning circles elsewhere

But too bad

You don’t want to acknowledge

Someone larger, someone

Who could teach us

Perfect love

To keep us from assaulting,

Killing each other

Then takes your chances

With revelation

And apocalypse when

They cannot be denied

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C L Couch

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Photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash

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Crisscross

(x = space)

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Crisscross

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I creak around

The morning

Bending my knees

To write

As if I’m meeting

Someone who sits

On the other

Side of fire

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A wilderness of

Understanding,

A meeting with a muse or

God whose presence

Is apparent

Is ennobled

In the fire

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C L Couch

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Photo by Timothy Meinberg on Unsplash

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