soul power
let us break bread and
drink
wine together
breaking hate for whatever
reason
we saw justified
wine as blood
to know that blood is poured
and
has been poured
and except
by the one must be
bled no
longer for the rest
to say today
and
how
shall we rejoin
(or if
rejoin)
tomorrow
if
we could
remember on our
knees
in faith
to the one
and then in service
also
to each other
then
that we study war no more
but
let peace prevail and
a feast
by love
by love
tempered by wisdom as
mercy tempers
justice
unafraid
overcome
if afraid
still overcome
c l couch
for Juneteenth
photo by Ian Kiragu on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Sometimes Agnostically Yours
x
God, what shall I pray
To you?
I’m sorry for my sins
And I mean that
I ask for forgiveness that
Frankly
I struggle in receiving
x
I ask for daily bread
That might be
Bread
Or
Something else
I need
Pretty much right now
x
And I shall wait
Probably
Pretty badly
While I wait
x
Since need often
Feels punished
And faith
Is much
From an invisible God
To wait for
x
And yet
Stones for bread
Is inhumane
And undivine
And so
I’ll try to anticipate
Exactly the right thing
Provided
x
Sorry
Thank you
Amen
x
C L Couch
x
x
Matthew 6:9
x
Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
A Living Season
x
Food and water
Bread and wine
For mass
And other celebrations
After
x
Liturgically,
We note salvation all the time
Symbolism’s good
The real things
Are better
When they meet our needs
To lift the worldwide press
Off a crushing world
(metaphor again
they teach)
Are better
x
Symbolic food
Give actual food
Safe water in the present
Wine to seal the deal
For those who allow
As in that crass (unclassed) and useful way
We might worship
And also act in the world
x
Give money from a distance
Distribute packages
Place clean rims of containers
Upon parched, maybe dying lips
When everything’s all right
We’re fit
To talk about the rest
Negotiate
For healthy people
x
All this would make a season
Health is good for the economy
Living without
The need to bury
‘Til the righteous time
Worked into the primal design
And a pattern
For humanity
x
That make us better
People for the moon and Mars
Keeping us whole
At home
A home to have
And to return to
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Rebecca Matthews on Unsplash
My husband and I have begun a few new ventures after getting back to ‘normal’ from the house fire we suffered in Feb. this year. I now make handcrafted soap, and he bakes bread and cookies. Our new neighbors love us, as they get to enjoy the fruits of our labors!
x
(x = space)
x
x
So Much on One Day
x
Yesterday was
Father’s Day
Juneteenth
Corpus Christi
My
The body of Christ
Evidenced
Manifest
In Eucharist
This is important
This is my body
Christ said to disciples
This is my blood
Do this in remembrance of me
x
A priest once explained to me
That the change is not molecular
That substance
To the medieval minds
To the makers of the doctrine
Did not mean flesh
As in meat
But substance as in essence
As in presence
Belief and purpose
Inside, all around
x
These were believers
And philosophers
Not alchemists
(so much)
x
The reason for the bread and wine
Is changed
Our reason to be there in the moment
With a bell
Is changed from bread and wine
To faith
And even penitence
The salvation of the world
At hand
And hand outside as well
As inside we take and ingest
And move with nourishment
Into the world,
After
x
A professor told us
Once in class
Of her being in line
At a holy place in western Asia
Then in
Chatting about faith
With a stranger there—she
Was asked
(if not told)
Are not you Christians cannibals?
You believe in consuming
Flesh and blood
x
And my prof remembered
As I remember
With remembrance
The details and essence of
Her story
x
And is there physicality?
Yes, I think so
Bread, wine
And there is more
And the bell changes things
Things are changed in substance
For the better
Christ isn’t changed
Bread, wine
We are
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Fish and Bread for Breakfast
x
And he does
Jesus loves you
Grumpy we might be
Though post-resurrection letdown
A haze of liturgy
Formal words that don’t match up
With Easter
But here we are
Since the book is ours
Invited to have breakfast with Jesus
Fish and bread
Common enough fare
Or not
The English
And others I’m sure
Have kippers
That is herring
England is an island nation
Israel is by the sea
And by an inland sea
We’re having breakfast
And hearing about metaphoric sheep
From a shepherd who knows the work
Perfectly
And is calling us to do it
What
How can we take from perfection
Well, we can’t
But we’re all here
It’s what and whom we have
We can dine with Jesus
That is the Christian church experience
But then we have to be out there
Out here
x
A message from white men
We need to hear from everyone
We need to hear the story
From the lips
And other parts
The parts that move,
That dance,
That look and try to look with love
On a good day
While struggling on another
This can’t be a message of perfection
It has to be real
And what do we know of perfect
That is real?
x
And we are loved, anyway
And we must love
And it’s the best thing going, anyway
x
C L Couch
x
(church with preaching on John 21)
x
x
Photo by Andrew Valdivia on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
There’s a Story at the End
x
I don’t know what to say.
I need the birds to
dance across the
page
with their feet dipped in ink.
It’s a medieval riddle’s
answer,
though it would be cruel
to force birds’ feet
into wells.
x
I guess we take their feathers,
turn them into quills;
maybe we could wait
to find quills
inside forests:
gifts from the sources of stories
and the desert
and the sky
and moving waters
taking the shape
of earth below.
That’s what I want to tell,
a story!
Something for everyone. And
is there such a thing?
x
Once there was a child
in a forest
Who came upon a grown-up
clearly starving.
The child gave the grown-up
the only piece of
bread
in the child’s bag.
The adult rose up and thanked
the child.
Then they noticed that
the child’s bag
had a hole through which
crumbs had fallen—and through
forest-magic
had not been eaten
by birds or other creatures!
x
They knew certainly where the
crumbs
would take them,
so they went home
where everyone was
known,
because everyone was
home.
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash
x
The Dailies
God, you give me this day
Give us this day
Sounds strange, now I think on it,
To be saying it so late in church
Since we’ve already had the day
For a while—thank you
For giving us this some hours
Ago
I guess the gratitude’s still in it
And a God of kairos shouldn’t mind
But what is daily bread? Bread?
Food? Any food?
Water? Something else we drink?
Is it to have enough only for today
So we should pray again
Tomorrow?
The Israelites could not keep the manna
Miracle it was, falling from heaven
Like that
But it would not keep
They really had daily bread
And is that now for us?
Give us what we need today
Help us not to hoard against tomorrow
Give others daily bread as well
We know too many won’t have it
Maybe this is a trespass of the one
Who prays,
Who has bread for today
Who might have some to share
With those who might pray yet still go
Without bread
If so, it isn’t a trespass like the one
We should forgive
We should ask to be forgiven,
Then to share the daily bread
So that prayer and all things magical
Might have substance on Earth
Such that everyone may pray
For food and air and water
And then have it
How many Shakespeares would we save?
How many Achebes?
Which is not the point but
Could be a boon for all of us
Simply keeping someone else in
Bread, of all things
What we have every day
While others starve
And die
Then if a Morrison should thank us later
Or a Cervantes or Sun Tzu
A Dickinson come out the house,
Daily will have some status and memory
In inspiration
For the world
Or you and I will have bread
With a little more to share with someone
Else
To re-create it all tomorrow
C L Couch
Photo by Bank Phrom on Unsplash
Print Is Alive
Psalm 49
(a penultimate song)
Before the last,
One more thing,
Please, to say:
O Lord, like all
The seasons that
You muster,
You are constant
In provision;
Might we live in
Gratitude,
Thirsty children
Who can yet look
Up before
We stoop, saving,
To drink—
Risking, yes, a
Moment of hurt
Brilliance
Gazing, as we
Do, toward the
Direction of one
Who has
Left life for us
In a healing cup,
Freely filled with
Consequence,
And bread that
Was earth-fired,
Once
Bread and Stone
All that’s left
Is the heel of the
Rye bread loaf
And a small pile of
Caraway seeds
(Inside) made
When I lift
The bag
Bread and bitter herbs
I could be
A Celtic sin-eater
A job from long ago
In smaller, well-defined
Communities—and
For their sake
The task has left us,
While the cause
For eating and then
Running out the
One fed
Remains
Bitterness
Of sin—perhaps
Given the time
And hard hearts—
We
Should tear off
A bit of bread
To take with
Zealous spice
clcouch123 
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