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Bland Recovery

(x = space)

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Bland Recovery

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I was hoping

I’d feel better

Even with the brace

I couldn’t find

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I was hoping

I could cross my legs

To write

And not pay for it,

Afterward

With added pain

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Here I am on

The fifth Saturday

Wishing it would

Go away,

Wishing that

Too much would

Go away

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Well, I can walk

On it but then

I wear it out

And it wants to cry,

To complain

About injustice

And why it should

Be me

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Time to think

About the others,

Which sometimes

Is cold comfort

For why should

You hurt more

So that I feel less

And berate myself

For lack

Of sympathy?

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Sigh,

The days goes on

And I am in it

You’re there, too,

Most likely with

Your greater pain

And I’m sorry,

Really am

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I hope we are

Forgiven for

All the nothing we

Have done

To warrant pain

As punishment

And the lessons others

Will impose

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Our pain an object—then

An object lesson

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash

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Following Discoveries

(x = space)

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Following Discoveries

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If God wanted us to fly

Well, I think God did want this

We’re there

We’re going far

And we go deep

There are barriers

We make them for each other

And ourselves

But on the other side

Yes, there we will have something

All our rewards

In the arrival

We will have everything

We will be loved, at last

We will be loved

By the universe

Maybe on Earth it hasn’t

Gone so well

But here

Wherever here

There is something grand to do

Every day

Forever

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C L Couch

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Photo by Justin W on Unsplash

San Diego, CA, USA

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Affectionately Yours

(x = space)

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Affectionately Yours

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All the things

That drive us to aberrant

Distraction, should

We let them:

What if our autonomics

Fail and I must be responsible

For breathing, blinking

The beating of my heart?

You see,

That won’t happen

But we can get into states

From time to time

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As if the wrong angel

On my shoulder

Has been given too much sway

And I have let

The silent one

Stay silent in its wisdom

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The demons call

Now and then

With sugar-words

And honeyed expectation

They must seem irresistible

In certain moments

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But utter no,

Laugh

Move on—there,

You’ve removed the

Curse and thus joined

The anti-damnation league

Whose numbers

Are unknown

Whose fee is nil

But do they shine

In Parousiac moments

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C L Couch

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The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis

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angel in a cemetery, weathered by time but still a powerful image

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

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Nosh

(x = space)

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Nosh

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Tea time

Tee time

Take a break

Let someone else

Do something,

Even if you have to pay

A little for it

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A moment of vacay

As they say

Small return

On the investment

On so much living

So far,

Giving and trying

To get it right

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Enjoy the moment

Then get back to work

A little easier

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C L Couch

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Food Stack Collection

Photo by Nico Smit on Unsplash

RiverCity Christian Church (Hobart), North Hobart, Australia

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2 songs

(x = space)

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2 songs

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Song of Innocence

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If innocence

Means free from guilt

Well, that’s really

Not enough

Innocence must be

Something on its own,

Not the absence

Of anything

Something desirable

A sense of peace

Of grace that we can

Walk with through

The day

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Substance

Not a reflection or

Wishful thinking

Something that knows

The world, the score

And chooses innocence

Knowing,

Even skeptical or cynical

Strong innocence

Elastic

Durable

That knows the score

Not absence of guilt

The born-with quality

Is fine

But the knowing quality

Is better

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Song of Experience

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There’s so little

That I’ve done

Enough to hurt some people

To have been used

By people, too

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Here I am

So tired,

Breathing through

A microphone

A torch song

Emanating

Is that all there is?

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But it isn’t

I think there’s more

More sufficiency

More grace

More life

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And if it seems I’m whining

Or whistling through

My teeth

The saddest tune

Well, I’ve been

Around

Some

With so much more

I’ve never known

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And yet I think

In splinters,

Having this and wanting that

Wishing I’d done that

Wishing I hadn’t

It’s a maddening calculation

At the board

On this side of the gate

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I hope

The tally’s adequate

Or maybe we could

Toss the numbers

Into the moving water

Dividing worlds

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C L Couch

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Hope Valley, Peak District, UK

Photo by Magda V on Unsplash

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Place Setting

(x = space)

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Place Setting

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Monday, Monday

Now the song is in my head

I see a cityscape

Microsoft has placed on the computer

There are no people to be seen

But they must be there

Taken at sunrise

While many are asleep

(the photo, not the people

though one never knows)

The television drones

The coffee murmurs,

And it’s mainly done

And I sit cross-legged

In obeisance

And thanksgiving

For the time I have to write

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C L Couch

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Photo by Grant Durr on Unsplash

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Anything We Give Each Other

(x = space)

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Anything We Give Each Other

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What shall I give of

Myself today?

Many skin cells,

Loose strands of hair,

Carbon dioxide

Naturally

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Thoughts as I write

Or should I talk

With anyone;

Or will a few drop down

Onto the page

Made of cells

And electrons

From me

Or the machine?

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And we will each give

Of each one

Exchange

Like inhale for exhale,

As close as

Sharing across

The boundaries

Allows inside the rings

Of a mortally fixed

Universe

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C L Couch

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Photo by Pavel Neznanov on Unsplash

Saratov, Russia

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For Real

(x = space)

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For Real

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Ouch

It hurts

Somehow my foot

Was traumatized

In a sort of

Accident last week

I like to think

It’s getting better,

But that might be

Wishful thinking

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I’ve been hobbling

While I’ve been,

Well, hobbled

Maybe there’s a lesson

In this

That I don’t know at present

All I’m thinking about

Now

Is ouch

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C L Couch

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Photo by Max Bender on Unsplash

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Finally, an Affirmation

(x = space)

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Finally, an Affirmation

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Sometimes to dream

Is stupid,

Because

I think that

Of myself

Who am I to dream?

How can I make the waked-

Up version happen?

Who smiles on

Me to make it happen?

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Dreams spark on the

Inside

(where there is heat);

They are

A matter of

The inner life, the life

We have when we

Are at our best

Or at our rest—sometimes

I’m not sure

Which is which

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I share this with you

Because

Our dreams have value,

And we should have them

(some we’re

going to have, anyway)

And the truer ones

The ones that form,

Form again,

Take hold

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The dreams that we

Should have

That the ideal revelation of

The universe

Approves

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C L Couch

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Gloomy Forest in the Fog

Photo by Jay Mantri on Unsplash

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