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a third poem (3 poems about ecumenicity)

(x = space)

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a third poem

(3 poems about ecumenicity)

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Later in the Day

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All the traditions

I can’t name them

Do you need me to?

Hinduism

Buddhism

Taoism

Jainism

Pantheism

See? there are more

And these are not

The yellow pages

(a reference to a phonebook

of listings in the USA)

Who believes?

Who decides?

No one decides, I think

Though

There has to be veracity

In coming to the table

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The sole, actual criterion

Aside from interest

In community

Larger than

One’s own

(globally large)

Being lack of violent intent

Or practice

At or on said table

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There is risk

In all this, I know

Something precarious might happen

The clean-up will be prodigious

The pan might flash

But given consequences

More so the promises

To ourselves

And the generations following

Risk worth taking,

Don’t you think?

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Meet you there

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C L Couch

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by NASA/JPL-CaltechThe original uploader was SnoopY at English Wikipedia. – http://photojournal.jpl.nasa.gov/catalog/PIA03520Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1134766

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2 poems about ecumenicity

(x = space)

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2 poems about ecumenicity

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Many Things to Make

(nothing like a rant but a ramble)

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And there are other great traditions, too,

About which I know next

To nothing

Remembering the Gulf War when

Some of us felt ecumenical

And took part in gatherings of Christians,

Jews, and Muslims

Where I got to hear the testimonies

Of the followers of each

And who they were as persons

And believers

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There was a young woman

Of Islam

Who articulately smoothly,

Even beautifully

That who knew her better than her parents

With regard for her

And so who better to arrange

A marriage for her?

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And I was convinced

And I disagree

And there was beauty in the

Disagreement, too

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Doubting that we changed much

Of anything—there

Was still a war, and our young

People left to fight—but

In the moments

Of these hours

There were the points of light

The President then

Had been asking for

Inside the nation

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There is so much more

To learn

About my neighbors

In the nation

And the world:

Who are the believers?

What do they believe?

What is the story of their faith?

Might they respect

The disagreements, too,

So that our world

Has a chance

To survive

To prosper

To believe

So that with integrity

We might reach for another world,

Too?

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Pray the world lasts

Until we meet upon Megiddo

Not to fight

But have a meal,

Exchange apocalypse in faithful terms

And human

For a conclave

And a celebration

Of each other

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Reasonably

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Most of us believe

And there are those who don’t

Though binary’s not enough

There must be more

Than defining one thing

By its opposite

Humanists

Secularists

Unitarians

People of the Renaissance

Who gave science a category

Near faith

Without faith

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Objectivists

Phenomenologists

People of reason

Rationality

Naturalism

Modernism

Fitter for post-modernism

Than the rest of us

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Who could lead the way, in fact,

In appreciating

Difference

And diversity,

The creative celebration

Of the mind

And the experiment

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Sorry I must

Define these as an

Other

But they must be

Welcome at the table

They could welcome us

We could invite each other

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coda

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Yes, which is not to say

Believers are irrational

Some are

Some want to be

And there are those who keep

Their faith as

Something in the wild

Those who lost at Whitby

But kept the Celtic

Style and ritual

Below

And now in daylight

Seek in celebration

Understanding for the rest of us

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But faith has reason;

Might we say

That reason is creation

By creator?

Say no

Say yes

But allow for some very smart people

To believe

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No one has to change

Except in violent intent

It should be an instinct to

Understand oneself

When understanding others

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Keeping in mind

With hopefulness

That the one requested

Will in turn

Turn toward you to say

And what is your story?

Delightfully,

Be ready

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C L Couch

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I was writing before dawn and thinking about the seasons that are upon us now, wonderful times—and that in the spirit of this or that we might serve each other not only better but also for the first time, the stakes being, well, everything

now it’s dawn

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by M. Garlick/University of Warwick/ESO – http://www.eso.org/public/images/eso1627a/, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=99645426

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Eve X

(x = space)

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Eve X

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I cannot help

But love the evening

Maybe you feel the same

And in the quiet night

A miracle

And it can’t have been quiet

With the mother

And the father

And the animals

And the outside

Night noises

And yet the heart is quiet

Generally

When

There is the birth

To contemplate

In the dark

And after

Maybe

An extraordinary light

That might be candlelight

Or dawn

Or an inside

Sunrise

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And it could happen

In an hour of

Any Christmas Eve

With apologies to mothers

And to fathers

And to animals

The wilderness

x

But we might need

Silent consideration

Of it all

And then to have a new day

In more silence

Or the noise

Of a wonderful

However illuminated

Day

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Darkness

And light

Darknesses

And lights

We might need both

To understand

How a birth leads

To eternal life

Because it may

It does

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C L Couch

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Photo by Remy Gieling on Unsplash

Believer holding candle at evening church ceremony in Paris.

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Blessings of Lights in Darkness

(x = space)

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Blessings of Lights in Darkness

(appreciation of a Gentile toward the Jewish family)

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Somewhere in Advent

Hanukkah begins

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Sundown tomorrow,

I believe

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Eight nights of blue

With silver lights

That dedicate

The temple

From our enemies

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They’re gone:

We don’t have to think

About them

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Now, there’s chocolate

And treats

In games

And gifts,

Small delights

And big ones for the heart

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Anticipation

Practice

Family

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My ignorance

Like ignorance

Has walls;

I’d rather be inside

The spirit of redemption

And occasion,

The community

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The relief in having realized

Somber times

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The pleasure now,

The fun

Of shalom

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Eight days

Of miracle,

Of remembrance and the meaning that

Creation is in food

Also in candle lights

And in each of us

Singly

And specially together

Now

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The one who saves is blessed

And offers blessing

And is the one

As one

Who provides seriously

And playfully as well

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Is here

Beyond the count of days

And nights

But who is here

Inside these eight,

All the intimate hours

As we draw near to them

To have,

To share

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Next year in Jerusalem

Then

And now with family

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From the source of blessing,

Bless

And

Keep you, friends

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C L Couch

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Call of the Light

Photo by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash

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Grow Up, No, Grow Up

(x = space)

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Grow Up, No, Grow Up

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I wanted to be a normal child

And still

Qualify somehow

For Neverland

Or to ride a dragon

Unnegotiated

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Something that’s quotidian

And wild

For an hour or so

A panic in a closet

‘Til the back is found

And open into

Covered branches,

Snowy trees

That beckon like

Fantastic men and women

And I shall have a part

In their next chapter

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C L Couch

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Photo by Andrea De Santis on Unsplash

Night View of the Dragon Bridge

Da Nang, Vietnam

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Take It Outside

(x = space)

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Take It Outside

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Here it’s raining

There might be

Snow and sleet around

This is a strange place

For weather

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I’m used to weather

From the west

Occasionally, from north

Or south

Because Canada or the tropics

Has something to say

To us

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Here and now

It comes from all directions

I mean it

All the winds

In all their courses

Everything that’s brought with them

Or left here in stillness

When they’ve gone

Or turned away

As if we could conjure

As is conjured, somehow

Rain from anywhere

The denseness in the air

Anything

The comes

And we oblige

By working through it

Who can change it?

Well, I think we better

Not this

From all directions

In our days

Eccentric seasons

But overall

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Experts

Not deny-ers

Who have no expertise

But go for easy

Ignorance

But experts say

The world has changed

And so has living here

Everywhere

For all

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Don’t trust science?

Go outside

And move around

Through currents

In the water

Overland

And in the air

See broken ice

Too much

And drowning islands

New channels

We have lived without

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Take back the Northwest Passage

Keep it blocked

With righteous cold

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Right now feel the heat

You can

It should be cool

Where is the cool?

Maybe the ozone hole

Is taking it

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But if it’s not conspiracy

It isn’t

Not this way

Then we may say

That we have done this

And should fix it

Which doesn’t have to be extraordinary

Not perforce

And unsure seeding clouds

Or oceans

Or burning what

We don’t like

(also bears a chance)

Or firing beams

Or changing the base chemistry

Of anything

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We simply stop

Doing certain things

And use what we know

What Earth has taught us

To fix things

Replant, feed again

In everything

Let it grow

Let Earth grow

The goodness in four elements

And if there’s

A fifth element

(you know)

Maybe it’s

Our exchange

Stupidity for sense

The right to cool

Our rightly angered children

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C L Couch

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Photo by Javier Miranda on Unsplash

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The Thing with Feathers First

(x = space)

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The Thing with Feathers First

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Birds are odd

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We like them for their

Feathers

And their beaks

And beady eyes

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They peck away

For food,

Sometimes for shelter

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They signal presence

And need

And declaration

In their calls

From their perches

Or flight plans

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You see,

They know the seasons well

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If we could listen

We might know more

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They frustrate and inspire

Our need

To fly on our own

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We might cherish the colors

Pinned to bodies;

We can make the colors

And so leave

Them on the birds

So we might complement

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There is obsession

With the turkey

Once or twice a year

Over here

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We breed them

So they’re not a challenge

Except to cook

And then to carve,

Which others

Might do

For us

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We say it’s for the birds

Meaning silly

If not stupid

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We ignore their smarts,

Their networks

On branches and on wires

Not to mention through

The air

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In folklore,

Birds carry messages:

Bird-banders wonder

What they might be

Telling us

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Why were we given birds?

As reminders

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About freedom

In captivity,

The sad and mortal Earth

And those who only know the ground

So well

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They teach us harmony,

Disharmony—sometimes

The savagery

In talons,

Sometimes the kindness

In community

Even survival

Glowing air

With song

Like litanies

For practicing our allegories

As all the notes rise

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C L Couch

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“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

. . .

Emily Dickinson

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Photo by thom masat on Unsplash

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(I saw a picture of a flicker in the desert, pecking into a cactus;

my grandfather was a bird-bander for the government)

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Forever Invitation, RSVP

(x = space)

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Forever Invitation, RSVP

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There is a table

You know this

The right shape

With many chairs

All are welcome

We have technology

For turns

For clarity

And intention

For a planet

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All are guests

The host might seem

Off somewhere

Though is returning

With angels

And tidings

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We might have to work

Mainly with us

And pray in evenings

Those who pray

While also working on

Best thoughts

And hopefulness

As gifts like creation

Even resources

To discuss

Arrange

And practice

For a future

A humanity

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n. b.

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Yes

And at the final conclave,

There will be

A sky command

For snacks

And meals

For needs

For celebration

Everywhere

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C L Couch

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Photo by Trude Jonsson Stangel on Unsplash

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Lockerbie

(x = space)

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Lockerbie

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So many lost people,

Lost at Lockerbie

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They are in the news again

And should be;

All our losses need remembered

(losses’ need)

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We think

A culprit has been found;

Headlines, texts, and images

Need smoothing out

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How awful to be made

To remember

And how necessary

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Let’s not look

Away

But mourn

With forward eyes

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C L Couch

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Lockerbie bombing suspect in US custody

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Photo by Andrew Ridley on Unsplash

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