“Same Old,” “Same New,” two poems about faith and doubt (or doubt and faith)


Same Old

I’ve written
On these themes before
And sorry for
The repetition

Sometimes
I know
And deal in the same
	The seasons
	Say
Because these things wear well
At least on me
Like shoes that fit
At last
Or stories that we like
To tell
	The substance of Dad
	Jokes
	No doubt

But here I deal
Because
I must confess that some things get
To me
Which might be sole motivation
For
Classic-worthy writers
(like the class that earns
gold medals)
but
Sometimes I fear as well in addition to
The trouble
Heartless
Of the intellect

Where do we go
And why the lack of permission
To know

I could take gnosis or agnosis
I suppose

But beyond
Secret knowledge
And the memberships
How do we
Know
As anyone
To know for
Real

When even feelings of assurance
Fail

While our God says
Through lore
That God loves us
And wants
If not aches
For all of us be joined with God sometime
Well
The testimonies that we have
Discuss doubt
Even in those right before the Lord
Not
For us
From ages past

Hmm
Maybe there’s something there
In I believe
Help my unbelief
The
Salvation formula clearly given
And yet
One must admit to doubting
Even in the face
Or by the words of
God

Moses
Miriam
Others
With the loving parent brought before
The Christ
In order for the child to be healed
And told
Believe
Is all
And must say to Christ
I believe
And I don’t believe
And I must ask you to help me
In the second
Maybe both

And then
You know
Without a test
(a further test perhaps)
The child is healed

Mark 9
You can Thurber-look it up

Yet there is doubt
To read
And doubt
To have
And finally the doubt beneath the doubt
Like the last temptations
We have heard
About

The final doubt that maybe all
Must face
In that all this of faith is real
With the results
	Rewards
	Perhaps
Truly
Taking place

And for faith we are heaven-sent
And then heaven-arrived

I believe
Help my unbelief

We come from God
We go to God
No doubt


Same New

And why
Should it have to go this way

Maybe not
If there were no
Postlapsarian

Maybe unfallen
Our impulse would be clear
That we are here
To tend
A garden
And each other
Build a planet
With
Because we have
Approval of the Lord

Maybe Love divine
All loves
Excelling
That with will
We go the first way
The way set up
The way
Hoped for
By the creator who must weep
Maybe turn angry when
We go the other way
The way
Of life we know
We have
Regardless of our knowing

Even
Rather mindlessly
Living for the self and for
Enough freedom
To live
In hard times
Or
Take despot-like because
Soft
Times are desired and
We might get away
With that

For those aware of virtues
To follow or
Desist

For those facing temptation
To give in
Or resist

Well
We could be puppets of the Lord
And
We are not
And there are consequences
To the will
We choose with harder judgments on
Those who steal choices
From others

And notions of paradise are fine
Truly fine
But cannot be realized here
Or any institution
Since
All things collective are inhabited
After all
By us
The way we are

And so paradise is distant
So distant as to be unreachable
Before
An afterlife
When and where
Forgiven things are not
Extant and the honest life put down
Is raised
To live inside
A new
And everlasting
Trend

Sigh
Outside of Eden
Where it’s hard
Though
Maybe we’d have had hard work
For perform in there
With
The work meaning delight
For
The change from how we treat work
Have work treat us
Now

Well
We live now
And may look forward
Toward something beyond
A worldly end
To something
Perelandra-like
Means
Both a willful and
Sinless life
Even
A planet’s existence
Decided
The right way from Eden


C L Couch


Perelandra, novel by C. S. Lewis; “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling,” hymn by Charles Wesley; Mark 9 in the Christian New Testament; “You Could Look It Up,” short story by James Thurber


Photo by Paolo Bendandi on Unsplash
BELIEF (for translation)
Lyon, France