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The Killings in Thailand

(x = space)

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The Killings in Thailand

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They were brought

Juice and popcorn,

Dolls

Everything they’d need,

The children at the daycare center

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But this was funereal

The children had

Died

Killed by a madman who killed

Others, too

Killed his family

Lastly, himself

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The families brought juice and popcorn,

Dolls

Snacks and toys

To the daycare center

For the children to enjoy their day

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Everyone had been to the temples

Then they came here

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Come back home

Come back with us

x

The parents

Parents and the living family members

Said

Pleaded

Cried

While exuding dignity,

Respect

For everyone

x

Come back home

Come back with us

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They were there

At the daycare

Leaving presents, organic things

Symbolic things

The children would have used

At their age

For their lives

In the daycare

x

Everyone had been to the temples

More to follow there

Now they are here

x

Come back home

Come back with us

x

They can’t;

Insanity

And criminality

Has taken them

x

Spirits

Journey

Hard

But shall be

Reunited

Wrongful death

Owns no victory

The children

Other victims

Know this now

They shouldn’t have to

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C L Couch

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Photo by Charlotte Seo on Unsplash

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Welcome Home, Elizabeth

(x = space)

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Welcome Home, Elizabeth

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You are the queen I’ve known

Since the beginning

As far as queens are needed

You were a good one,

I suppose

The diatribes against the royals

The subject of satires

The troubles throughout empire

And empire itself

x

You weathered like your namesakes

And your name become namesake

And were a person, too

The richest one

And with responsibilities

Some were known

In florid style

Cavalry and plumes

Other deeds and institutions,

Even

Remain unknown to most of us

Except the benefacting

And the benefacted

x

I’m sorry that you’re gone

I suppose there’s time

For the son

And then more sons

And when shall be a queen again?

And will she be Elizabeth

For all the virtues and the flaws

Of first and second?

The queen is dead;

Long live the subjunctive queen

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jack Lucas Smith on Unsplash

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3

When Great Pain

(x = space)

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When Great Pain

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If God exists

And God does exist

And if God loves

And God does love

And if God has power

And God has the most

Then how

Then why

I don’t know,

Why are things so messed up

So screwed up

So damnably awful?

We could ask this and these

On calmer days as well

It’s fair

x

All things of substance are good

Really

You move toward evil and the devil

Then you move toward nothingness

And nothing

These will increase, day by day,

Until that’s all

(so much worse than Porky Pig)

There is nothing

Not black

(black is good)

But a void

Out of which God has created

But not us

Nothing we have will last

Except as legacy

Then memory

Then

(let a couple of beats go by)

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We are on the side of flesh

Who value flesh

(I am ignorant about

mortification)

And what’s inside

Flesh is not bad

It is ours and was made for us

By the true owner

Of the universe

Who keeps with perfection

From the smallest moment that we know

And smaller

To the next

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And what of pain?

Why is there pain?

How can there be a God of pain?

Well, there is

Who is the God of love

Who promises alleviation

And for you

Family

And friends and neighbors, too

For a broken

And a splitting-further world

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Pain is a stake

(and stake)

It is on the table of the world

It is not ours

Though we can wield it

The way we can

Wield healing and solutions,

Too

These are realities and means

And we have so much to do with them

For now

We can move with

Pretty much anything we want

Inside

Outside

Toward ourselves

Toward our neighbors

Toward the world

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Persist

Sometimes is all there is

When pain is great

The next moment

And the next

One moment

Two moments

Enough accomplishment

Until everything’s incorporated

And we stand up

And move

Not move on as in forget

Move on as in everything’s a part

Of us now

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And I know

It’s hard

To say we’re not alone

When we are alone

Without the peace of it

But we’re not

A lesson for the speaker, too

We’re not

There is companionship

And company

For life

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C L Couch

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Photo by Conor Sexton on Unsplash

Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, United States

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Death Toll in Kentucky

(x = space)

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Death Toll in Kentucky

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I am from there

I am from other places

Doesn’t matter

x

I don’t need to know

The topography

The lay of the land

x

The floods have happened

People have died

Many things are ruined

x

The count continues

While the water rules

And there’s no good way through

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Forgotten parts of the world

Except in songs

Shows from NPR

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There are storms, I know

And people die

And land is ruined

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These people are one by one

Discovered

And remembered

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There are stories

There will be more

And we should be grateful

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Some places might rise

When dry

Some remain below

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In hollow places

In the Earth

Inhabited

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Uninhabited

For ages

The hollers

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Remembered

Unremembered

We can only hope

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All the counting

Numbers and greater meaning

And their stories

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C L Couch

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Kentucky Flooding Death Toll Rises to 37 as Governor Says Hundreds Remain Unaccounted for

https://www.cnn.com/2022/08/01/weather/kentucky-appalachia-flooding-monday/index.html

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Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

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Death and Saint Patrick’s Day

(x = space)

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Death and Saint Patrick’s Day

(17 March 2022)

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There has been

A death in the family

We will gather tonight

It might seem

As a wake

Though really it’s for comfort

Something pleasant

In all the difficulty

x

Which is maybe what

A wake is

Why the Irish developed

The remembrance

Bittersweet

Like coffee with sugar

Porter in a glass

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Though the glasses

Won’t be broken

Ritually,

It might feel like a christening

Launching a spirit

Into heaven

While

Our part in having something

Unofficially good to do

x

Goodbye

Farewell

Fair winds, as sailors

From many nations say,

And following seas

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C L Couch

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Photo by SpaceX on Unsplash

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There Should Be Signs

(x = space)

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There Should Be Signs

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I open a new page

Place fingers on my eyes

And yawn

There are no coins on

My eyes for Charon

Not yet

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Maybe a measure of

Prosperity’s due

So I’ll have something

Of my own to share

To pay my way over Styx

And to the land beyond,

The Grecian Hades

x

There I could find

Persephone,

If it’s one of her four days

And bid a change

To a new season

Death is a new season, too

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I could have as much of

The pomegranate as I like

I was not abducted

And there is

No curse upon me

x

In fact, life would have

Been taken from me

Talk about abduction

In this case

Of mortality

Sad but without great

Feeling, once we’re there

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I’m not sure where

The fires of hell came from,

Whose story

I suppose Elysian fields

Are for the gods

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With a sigh, a last release

Of emotion,

I must go another way

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C L Couch

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Photo by Kovah on Unsplash

Memories in Her Hands

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Small Matters

Small Matters

(enormously)

 

Small dog

Small death

Dogs grow old and die

Better we outlive the ones

We care for

We are small, too

Not in worth

But then, neither was he

Buddy, Bud, Boo

I don’t know how old he was

He was my neighbor

Now he’s gone

I’m sorry

He was soft

He was funny

I took a nip or two from him

(you know the kind I mean)

I don’t care

I’ve known dogs

I knew this one well enough

 

To me, it came on fast

What do I know

His mouth, by the way,

Was small

(maybe that’s why I didn’t

worry about the bites)

He could manage the small

Tennis-ball type things

I gave him some

 

Well, he’s gone from here

Dog-heaven is a destination

In a country song

And where he is for real

I’ll miss him

Not as much as she will

Her dog

His human

It’s a new connection, now

 

C L Couch

 

Thank you praying and thinking about Buddy.  (Goodness, officious announcing has rendered thoughts and prayers into specious-sounding things, though they’re not when real.)  Buddy died, quickly it seems.  If there’s power in prayer—and there is—then your prayers helped get him to his next home smoothly and painlessly.

Another pet friend of mine died recently.  Like Buddy, this one had a wonderful life, especially as irascible as he was.  This was Old Poodle about whom I’ve written with Old Dachshund (who died a while ago).  About these dogs, my sister often said “It’s a good thing they’re cute.”  I often sat for them and typically found their behaviors more amusing than annoying.  But then I could leave.

I’m sorry for Denise who took care of Buddy and my sister’s family who cared for Wiener and Schnitzel (my brother-in-law, the chef, provided the names).  And I’m thankful for humans who give good lives to pets.

 

 

Photo by Kenny Luo on Unsplash

GuangZhou

 

 

 

11

Cheating Death

Cheating Death

 

Who cheats anything

And gets away with it?

Personification

I get it

We must make a foe

Of death

To be defeated

Even if that never happens

Not by us

Where is the sting of

Death might be

As close as we can get

Death hurts,

Though finally it doesn’t

Have to

 

That’s faith

That is not personified

Except for centuries ago

In morality plays

Maybe we should bring them back

With all the characters in tow

Allegories

Grace, Good Works

Temptation

Faith and Judgment

Parts of a spiritual life

With the hero Everyman

Whose name will

Have to change to Everyone

I must admit, I like

The sound of that

And how it might play

Upon the stage

 

That is mortality

Where Death will win

Though it will not hurt so much

For the dead,

For those left behind

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Simon Matzinger on Unsplash

Charles de Gaulle – Étoile, 75008 Paris, France, Paris

Don´t spill the light of truth onto me — I prefer to live in the dark.

 

4

For Those Dying Last Night

For Those Dying Last Night

 

 

I can wonder

How many died overnight

And I do:

From fires, murder—way too many guns out there

To make it easy

Earthquake without preparation

Before catastrophe is imminent

Volcanic flooding and

The killing funnel winds and so much more

 

Death from lack of funding

Lack of food

Water without sickness caused in

Drinking as we have to do

Death from addiction

Let’s pass fault like drawing fault lines

All around

 

It’s the death unnecessary

That is maddening

As in angering

And thinking that our planet’s people

We are insane

For valuing a life over the next

For execution

Or reward

And a temporal plutarchy

(as in for the moment)

Abrogates decisions from the rest

From the most

The vast most

Of us

 

Blame nature, if you will

It is so strong

But at worst indifferent

With signs drawn almost in miracle

That it would just as soon

Lavish Earth with green and blue

Morning mist of romance

Evenings of wind-song

If only we’d stop destroying all the sense

All the delight

Even the magic in

Everything we should know

Do better

 

No, frog—isn’t easy being green

When your world wants to wither you

In fact, find new places to do so

And turn a profit in the air

Made black before nightfall

And there’s a prophecy

 

We keep living to hate nature

It will find a way to act and show

It hates us back

 

 

addendum

 

Was it taming nature?

Or negotiating,

Beseeching it not to break

Our dams or roads

Or anything for which

We lay foundation?

Did we not ask for mercy

When we lay the track

And dredge the harbor

Back from where

It had newly settled from

Whose effort, I wonder?

Do we not beg the

Earth as we split it with our

Dredges, channeled water

Wide, fractured slate

Not to hate us but

To give us our reward?

Have we ever sought to understand

Balance, agree with

How it sets and how it turns

And how we might live well

With it?

If so, then

That’s the song to sing

 

 

C L Couch

 

 

 

Photo by Marc Szeglat on Unsplash

Hawaii, United States

Lava from Kilauea on Hawaii flows into the ocean. I shot this picture in October 2017. More on my website volcanoes.de.

 

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