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Difficult Sky

(x = space)

x

x

Difficult Sky

(hard to read, to navigate)

x

Today is

Strange

In our little corner

Within corners

x

Particles are falling through

The sky

x

They could be sleet

They could be hail

x

Either way,

Like a warning

Not that we feel apocalypse

We mainly feel the strangeness

x

And that might be the warning:

Today is strange

Be ready

By not being ready

x

And it’s Ash Wednesday

So try to make

A Christian meaning

Out of that

x

Well,

Christ came to save the world

And this day needs

Saving

x

But simply go inside,

Which might be enough of

A measure

With no need to go all

Soteriological

x

Wear the ashes:

Outside, they might run

x

Inside, they might

Instruct

In safety

And in contemplation

x

Or leave your foreheads clean

And think about the ashes

On the inside

(of the inside),

The way thinking might be

Sectarian

Or universalist

x

Either way

If you permit,

Have a good, ashy

Gray day

x

Sunny where you are

Perhaps

Or raining

Or another kind of storm

Still for liturgy

Or hearts or minds

Gray day

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

x

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On the First Day

(x = space)

x

x

On the First Day

x

Ash Wednesday

Let’s have ash

Upon our foreheads

Crosses that will smudge

And that’s all right

Throughout

The day into

The evening

For the season

x

We say it’s for remembrance

Of death

And our mortality

But our foreheads are warm

There’s temperature beneath

And all the little crosses

Bearing small,

Smudged,

And living

Testimony

Everywhere

x

Not bad for evangelism

Contraindicated for a show

Rather a story of

Black, loving humility

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Taylor Flowe on Unsplash

x

6

Armistice

Armistice

 

A hundred years ago

Europe was ablaze

An awful fire, open-pit

Like southern

Soldier picking

 

North Africa, western Asia

Cut into with blunt

European, Turkish knives

As if

The lands were

Burnt meat

 

Now the USA is adding

Fuel to the fire

My grandfather a soldier-stick

Serving with muscle and courage

And fear

(I’m guessing about the fear, for I never

Saw if in him)

 

Then all elevens,

And it’s over: fire tamped

Ashes rising, setting on new ground

Of anger and reparation

 

Peace rendered ironic

Buckets of grave dirt

Thrown against

Walls of retribution

 

Against which

New shadows will rise

 

C L Couch

 

(National Geographic Society)

 

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