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charity

If Not Charity

(x = space)

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If Not Charity

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There should be more:

God, will you have

More?

There is great need

Awful, tearing need

As if a maw

Like all the mouths we fear

Should swallow us

God,

Will you meet us there?

Charity begins

Where charity begins

We don’t interpret well

Who cares

Take up the toys

Gather in the food

Say something special

Better to be doing it

And saying it

What is giving

Don’t wait for philosophy

If you have a dollar

Or a handkerchief

You might be rich

You might be on the sidewalk

Where I called you

Says the Lord

Our God

Who is our God

And preaches mysteries

Though love is clear enough

Share it

Keep it well

Pearls planted well inside

The ocean of our need

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C L Couch

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Photo by Gabrielle Mustapich on Unsplash

Emerald waves from above.

Tofino, BC, Canada

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13 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

. . .

(from) Paul’s first letter to believers in Corinth

King James Version (and the tongues of people)

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Charity

Charity

(for normal people)

 

The old King James word

For love

It can permeate

In the old-fashioned way

A cloud of knowing

For a change

When giving has a cost

It isn’t easy

Whether it’s largesse

Or widows’ mites

 

Giving ‘til it hurts

I question if there is

Meaning in that

But giving as a passion

New kind of love

Not ‘til there’s nothing

There will come new rounds

But with awareness

There is feeling

There is healing

Florence Nightingale

Who sang not her praises

But encouragement

While wandering the battlefield

Clara Barton in the USA

Doing the same

Could you give that away?

I couldn’t

But I have a mite, maybe two mites

Someone may have one

It wouldn’t hurt

(so much)

Especially if I knew the story

 

I know, there is belief

Cynics are smart

And should have their way

While everything is suspect now

So it might turn from mindful giving

Into something mindless

Sometimes

 

Sometimes

Give anyway?

There might be something

In surprises

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Maheima Kapur on Unsplash

and is that the world turning in the center

 

The Wanderer

The Wanderer

When not Dion’s song
An older lament about
The way we lived in medieval
Language (translated), too

A thousand years ago and more
In northern climes
After war, famine, disease, and
Dissolution
The end of family
Of all mortal ties

All that was left was the
Wanderer who had to live
On words, on songs
That might eke out
Some charity
In inhospitable days

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