(x = space)
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No Harm in Asking
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Let’s hope for a good day
You and I
Friend
Stranger
I don’t care
In a good way
If you are deserving
And who isn’t
Let’s hope for a good day
We can supplicate
It’s not a trick
Then wait while it happens,
Itself reveling in hours
Waiting
To let us in
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C L Couch
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Photo by Marcel Strauß on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Unelegant Petition
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God,
Will you give me a good day
This day?
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This is whining,
And it isn’t:
There’s real pain, confusion,
And frustration
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And I’m not certain
Of my way
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Maybe bad days can show
The way as well;
But I’m asking for a
Good day simply,
Well,
Because it hurts
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But if a prophet’s
Tortured way
Is necessary,
Then so be it
(amen)
Though I’d like the way
To be smoothed soon
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And so you know,
I’m glad to work
In the be-thankful-for-small-
Favors
Department
Anytime
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C L Couch
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Old Train Tracks
Photo by Ivan Aleksic on Unsplash
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Epiphany
Epiphany. Twelfth Night. The magi come upon the infant Jesus at his family’s home. They are amazed. They give gifts. A tribute.
Epiphany means discovery. An ordinary act that brings new insight to life. The magi, I imagine, were not ordinary people, though what they did was hardly unusual. Many traveled land to land and town to town back when. The caravans were living roads to make trade and civilization possible.
They are not the only ones who had read and studied the stars to find alternative direction. Astrology, astronomy. They were blurred pursuits in this region of the past. There was meaning in the sky. The seasons brought us learning there. We looked for all these.
But when these magic persons, in their learn(ed) wisdom of the world, travel west at last to find this child at home, sameness leaves their lives and all the worlds’. Forever.
What did they discover? What was realized? They beheld a person who meant change.
How so? Two thousand years and some, we still ask.
clcouch123 
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