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two poems about angels

two poems about angels

I’ve been writing a series of psalms; two of these turn out being about angels—description, speculation—hoping your approval

psalm 19

your angel watches
with
all the miracle of senses
while
I sleep
when that should happen
in
the turmoil
like trying to rest aboard a ship
at night
when the sea rages
and turns
in all
directions but the way
toward home

the angel keeps
by
mission
not
to render magic but
to let the world have its way
much
of the time until correction
then
and final revelation

and
thank you for such helpers
messengers
to each
announcers to all

and
shall we know you through this
kind who
by order and by wonder
care

and so magnificent
part of
the host and we might serve there
too
after apocalyptic times

but I was thanking
you
for helping while I should sleep
and your helper
with

connecting
me
to you then
as this may happen all
of us

help in all hours by
the God who by God is and has
a servant
to
us all

for our
return

psalm 20

your angels are so powerful
and
having names

we know a few

while power has no value
until assigned by you
and
by your arrangement we
decide
to keep
to use

then the beings close to you
until
we arrive
have chosen how to
serve and how
to shine
for
good or for ill
for some decide

to break away vainly
and
aggressively unsatisfied and so
take followers
to
make a separate heaven
so that there is
a war
to undermine one realm or the other

and over time and
for all we
know is raging yet
since
who can tell an age that is
celestial by
mortal

and so a mystery among
the mysteries
and
if so tied then chained
to worldly ways

so that
the war come down through us
in all temptations and
dimensions
‘til
an ending
whose moment’s also vague
regarding
when

the keening tragedy
as
such creative missives fight
with all the majesty
and
muscle that each has and
then to set
one against another and so many

some try to describe until all of us are
after
when with all the conflicts done
deciders and
survivors
here
say this is the count of heaven
and
mourn and then we must count joy

c l couch

photo by Cosmin Gurau on Unsplash

(spaces between parts go on, sigh, provided by WordPress)

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guardian

guardian

I talk with
well
her or him
or another through
the day

I feel the nudges even when I’m going
unaware

to guide
to wake up enough
with
enough
to change direction or consider
at least
another way

that might be safer
as
well as approvable

mostly
it’s the nudging
and
occasionally
well
often
with words

so it goes through the hours
in
my weakness
say
my exhaustion when
too tired to think on virtue

and then
like a feather or a talon
be
pushed gently in the miraculously
sponsored
way

c l couch

photo by Tina Hartung on Unsplash

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guardian

guardian

is there an angel
and I think there is
if
I don’t know how many angels
are assigned wherever
and whenever
and how
they work their shifts
in a day
or night or in
an era
and
does each one get one and
maybe so
I have a presence
of a feeling of
one
and I don’t know
I could be wrong in heavenly creation
and whether or not
to have
similarity in voices
depending on
the client
and
the quotidian
need to know how many or only
one since that is close to doctrine
and yet one
or many
each is company and so many for each of us
have one
and
maybe always as in year
by year
and also all the moments in
each bit of present
time
by which we need
and want
or might be saved when we don’t know
or
get an answer
as
well as talk more openly
hoping to hear honestly by what
we get
on Earth
until we meet the delegate
and sponsor
when
there

c l couch


photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

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the better reign in hell


the better reign in hell
(the devil says)

I exhale
you exhale
too
you better
unless it’s your time
in which case
breathe in peace in heaven
where there might be no breath
no need for it
or perfect air
in which to take one breath
or many breaths
forever

and water
such water
drink
wash
whatever
simply walk by
and feel the drops escaping from
the movements toward the
temple of the savior
and the monarch
one of the three
with three in one
and we might be three in one as well
each one of us
flesh
spirit
divine affiliation

life in heaven
noisy
quiet
safe except there were those hints of war
a ruin here and there
perhaps
not because the crafters couldn’t fix them
but because even in heaven
we should learn something

and there was rebellion
after all
or will be
and I don’t know who choses
maybe only angels

and
maybe we’re fodder on the Earth
the middle Earth
while in heaven we mortals-immortals now
much make our choices
too
renew our vows
toward one way or the other
cheering our side on
toward Armageddon
here
and so it seems
by prophecy
on the Earth we’ve known
and might know best
for a while
at least
new to our citizenship in heaven

closer to the leaders
Jesus with his love
Michael with his sword
the Spirit issues strategy
the rows of heaven
know

while God commands it all
and weeps
within a quiet hour in heaven
and maybe all eternity
cosmic
and ethereal
a time for tears
before the onslaught that’s been called
since Eden
or before
when the devil became serpentine
and with all fauna
was given a place there
and something honest
of its nature

but now
there is new gleaming
for the fight
that only one side wants
with one agenda for it
and on two plains
the ranks line up
for the first
and only battle
ever
to determine who shall win
heaven
with eternity
itself

and the reward
of breaking self from all
affiliation
to determine free
without direction
code
or morality to guide

no restrictions
or parameters
only
self
that shall lead to self-destruction
though the devil doesn’t care
for being lord of everything
that’s wrecked
against sub-lordship
subordinate if to only one
in heaven

the lordship
is what sells the angels on its
side
each one a monarch
to its own
and on the full-dimensional plane
that angels have inhabited
in all ages
in the ageless way

and that’s what is withheld
that everyone shall be a lord
of nothing
material
abstract
but over a lack of existence
more and more
in victory
so-called

lords of nothing in particular
having lost all matter
of all kinds
perspective the last thing
to go
perhaps
but something
and then nothing
which shall be the reign of hell
after
exhausting love
until only judgment
must remain

c l couch


photo by Sergio Capuzzimati on Unsplash

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Loss Is Great


Loss Is Great
(a fantasy)

1
Loss is great
So in loss
Like a song
I wander
And
I wonder

I’m sure the loss in heaven
Was felt greatly
More so
Maybe
Than the war that followed

That goes on
Still
Perhaps
What do we know
Of time and strategy
Among
Timeless
(and all-strategic)
Beings

Will it be over
When
Revelation says so

And how much is this war
Our war

It seems
For lack of orders
We do not fight
In this

And yet
Something like effects
Are always with us in
Mortality

That is
Temptation
Even falls
Great falls
Some of us
Take

And how much influence
How much willfulness
Decided
How much
Or all
Of it

Person or demon
Devil
Behind it all
Deceiving
That seems to be its job

So is the war all
Around us
Because
I don’t think we’re training
For it

I don’t think we’re supposed to be
Fighting
In it
Meaning
I mean
How could we

2
Orders
Above
Has me thinking
Order
Then orderly
(the noun more than
the adverb)

And  might I serve as
An orderly
Behind
The line
Fixing
(helping to fix)
Wounded angels

Why
That would be
Wonderful service
	Yes
	The wonder
	In the angels
	But the wonder in
	The service
For I could not fight for lack
Of wings
Or blades
Or
You know
An unlimited kind of strength
Yet
I could serve this way
To fix the angels
Then with trench-deep regret
Know
They return

And should a demon
Hurt
Come to the table
Then we fix it
Too
Because in love
There can be no other
Craft
No other option
To apply

Though
When repaired
It
Too
Returns

Maybe tries to hurt us
As it begins

I don’t know what protections
Might be
Afforded orderlies
From Earth
(or moon or Mars
depending on the length
of battle)
Maybe no succor
Whatsoever
Since
Triage
Would be for
Celestial soldiers
Of all orders
First

And there’s the word
Orders again
And maybe I wake up
To hear the cry
Or is it
Near my ear
The mourning dove
Through
Glass

And I wake
To mortal pain’s
Return

C L Couch


(one allusion is to “I Wander as I Wonder,” a song by John Jacob Niles)

Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash

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Dear Heart


Dear Heart

What shall I
Say
What shall I
Do
Today
I ask and ask
While there are no letters
In the sky

What shall I
Pray then
For an answer
A direction
If not
A plan

How about the next
Step
Only
How about an inclination
Certainly a push
Should help

A small one
Maybe
I won’t
Tell your supervisors

Or maybe you could help
With this
Great weight
That seems
To be weighing more
Today

Some small lightness
Which
I’ll take for
Freedom
To move along

Dear angel
Thank you
Knowing you are there
Is
Of course
Something good
More than
You know
You know

C L Couch


Photo by Jason marquis on Unsplash

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Prayer for Me and Everyone


Prayer for Me and Everyone

(and everyone who needs to pray this way)



O God

Our help

Help me

Keep me safe

And sane enough

For jazz

Or really

For the world

Largely indifference

But with those

As we say

(as I say)

Who’d just as soon

Cheat you

As smile at you

(who cheat you

first

by smiling

at you)

Really

Though

I need your company

And to feel it

Please

As companionship

If I may ask

Not so much

As a judge

Even though you are

And shall

And woe to me

When that business

Comes

And

Yes

I’m thinking

Like the Amish farmer

Who when asked

If saved

Replied

For all this faith

And service

I hope so



And I hope so

Though there is a world

That needs you

Even for orneriness

And even

Scorn

And hatred

For the differences

It fears

While some of us find

Difference

Interesting

And how did I evolve

This way

Conservative

Yet believing

In the prismatic way

One light becomes



Well

Help me

Lord

Please

I am too poor

Without resources

To do much

But I am I

Such as that is

And it seems

According to doctrine

And the smallest

Mustard-seed

Like

Miracles that happen

You persist

Somehow perfectly

In loving me

And keeping me



And I’d like to ask

And will

About my friends

By blood

And choice

And happenstance

And for a world

That’s cracked

And losing air

To please give everyone

A chance

And then another

We need you

In unknowing

We are a cloud of witnesses

If a stormy

One

You made

And let become

Over ages



Where is Eden now

Where are the rivers

And the perfect

Vegetation

And shall

We ever

Know such things again

As at the start

If that

The angel on assignment

Could step down

And lowering

The sword on fire

Raise the other arm

Then say

The trialing time is over

Welcome back



C L Couch





Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash



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Longing for the God who Stays

(x = space)

x

x

Longing for the God who Stays

x

Now to say

Something about God

Whom I do not know

A phantom lover

Cupid to Psyche

Embodied in the night

Gone by morning

x

And there the myth must end

For there’s a presence

Always

In the day

In all the hours

Probably in nanoseconds

In the smallest things

Perhaps

Angels dancing with electrons

‘Round the nuclei ephemera

Of thought

And awareness

x

Then the lovers meet

Again in dreams

Where we might talk

Words becoming solid

Resting in the liquid

Like a loving cup provided

Of the night

Out or which

We drink

Words and meaning

Clearly

In the night

x

Which might work

For a spiritual life

Except that in the daytime

There are daytime expectations

x

Who really stays

Who really goes

I make up things

For fear

Of isolation

And a longing for solidity

For the God who’s always there

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash

x

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prose poem about an—

(x = space)

x

x

prose poem about an—

x

–found and read a story about an angel.  A long time ago, I had a book of stories about angels.  As far as I know, I don’t have that book now; and I don’t know where I got it.  I don’t where I was when I read this story.  I seem to recall an institution-like place, a school cafeteria or something, though the light was not widespread and where it was was divided starkly between itself and shadow.  Maybe I’m imagining my imagining of the setting of the story.  This angel looked like a tramp.  He appeared in tattered clothes with a tattered raincoat over all.  He didn’t like where he was or that he had to look and feel this way.  I think he tended not to like his assignments all that much.  In this story, he saved someone; and I think he did this rather often, saving people.  At the moment just before salvation, he manifested as an angel.  As an angel should be.  He was majesty, all power and fear.  His wings were wide and they reached high.  There was great light through him (hmm, I guess he was depicted as male); and the evil in the story was overwhelmed, the human client rescued.  Afterward, he felt some contentment as an angel, though he knew he would be leaving and would be changing into whatever the next place and time required—not by his reckoning.  So he was about to leave and then—and this was the style of the writer—vanish in the middle of a–.

x

this story was written I believe by Stephen Donaldson who has composed the chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever; if I’m wrong then I apologize all around; I don’t recall the name of the anthology or the particular story cited, and I don’t know who else wrote the other stories—the theme was angels, that’s what I know and that I often think of this story, this time strongly enough to set something down

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Ramez E. Nassif on Unsplash

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