the day you were born
according to the calendar
and I’ve checked
it more
than once
I was a Thursday child
and so had far
to go
which is a mystery at
least
to me
for
don’t we all have far to go
to get somewhere
in life and maybe
afterlife
in face
that after this is done
does not the distance unfold
grandly
for each one
and
all
so what is far to go
maybe
far to go for satisfaction
for fullness
in breathing and work
(the
work of breathing)
or
maybe for
philosophy to gain and so to carry
through
the trials of thought and feeling
faced in the world
wondrous
fallen
virtuous
Calvinistically depraved
pursuit beyond a declaration
for a nation
or
to help secure it for others
affirm at least when
despotry breaks in
then
attempting to persist
so maybe it is
freedom
and the distance we all have to go
in
service to others
and ourselves
in that
somewhere is far to go
at any rate
metaphor for what’s ahead
and
an assurance that little will happen toward
instant completion
loving and giving
for
Friday’s child
so says
the rhyme
loving and giving as if
starting qualities and to
sustain through
live
and to go for everything that’s needed
to keep going in this way
through
all the time and all phenomena
that happen
requiring
a bounty
I should think of
faith
and confidence
to have the wherewithal for these
and to secure the job
that funds the giving
and
might fortify the loving
so
where should Friday be if not
in a good place and
with resources
all
the time
so who loves and gives in Ukraine
just now or
Gaza
or pick a torn-up
place where one is likely to lose all
and
have to flee
get wounds bound up
also
to deal with loss of health
and companionship
of
family
as well as neighborhood and one’s identity
not only of the circles as
they Venn
but of the single
self
that comes at the beginning and then
knows the joining with the rest
somehow
I think
Bonhoeffer
managed loving and giving through
the rise
the war
the horrors
and the sacrifice of
life
like the prayer of thanks
not
to be a guard
and more so for the pastor’s life
to give it
in the camp so that another
person
live
and so the living and the giving
the worst in the world
plus
the best in spirit
and so
in surfeit or in want
the capacities
for each to
live
as Friday
c l couch
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theologian who was imprisoned and killed in World War 2
photograph by Jon Tyson at Unsplash
VIA SACRA
Relegation
O God
Which is an invocation
We’re asking
You
Here and now
And are we aware
Of what we’re asking
No
Liturgically
Demanding
In
Your showing up
You’re God
And if so
The maker
And the real mover
Of
Well
Reality
All-knowing
So we say
And all powerful
Though
It’s easier
Secular
To believe invisible
And far away
That clockmaker
Having
Made and maybe
Set the clock
So long ago
Then left us to
Construct our own
Devices
Maybe
In our skill
Or lack thereof
To negotiate
Someday
To melt that primal clock
As
A Dali-like
Face-making
That is
Poured over parts
Of a parched Earth
But really
As we do things
(except
for invocation)
We could use you
Far away
And so keep our
Maybe fearing you
Also
Distant
And untested
In fact
Also
With cheek
Keeping your name
Inside our word-hoards
Available
For cursing
Or for sex
(is it
to bless the sex)
So
Such is irony
Such are
The ironies
And this is
Such
Strange wondering
As if to place you in a box
Maybe officially
To relegate you there
Until we need you
For
A ceremony
For
A clean and distanced blessing
Now and then
To complement in
Name
(whatever name)
Whatever ritual
We’ve made
Or
Somehow adapted from
The beginning
Words
So whom
Do we invoke
Just now
Whom do we ask
To call
And through our calling
Bring you here
In everything you are
And then
Even
To sing
To benedict
You
Away
Very God
Or distant God
Preeminent
Out of the way
Again
Then maybe
For an hour
Of the clock
Next
Time
Or maybe less
Then dare
We say
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Visual Karsa on Unsplash
Fate Unravels
(for Rosema in pandemic time)
x
I don’t know what to say
Today, it’s Friday
Hanukkah
Christmastime
Specifically, the Advent
Season
x
Who is coming to my house?
No one, for above the
First floor, we are not friends
x
We’re good as strangers
And a little worse
It’s so pretty outside
In a pastel way
It’s not as cold
As December should be
Around here
But it’s within the comfort zone
Generally,
Forties to seventies,
And I should not complain
x
A murder mystery
And if there’s no one to admire
Or a hero garnering
My admiration,
Then I’m not sure how much
I’ll care,
Since it isn’t real death, after all
x
So I’ll close the book and choose another
I’ll choose another day
Simply by waiting,
Persisting through this one
Not that it’s bad
But it’s the same
x
Under the aegis of pandemic
An aegis that’s a weight
Upon the mind, the heart, the soul
That we’re supposed to love God with,
All three
x
As for festivities,
It’s all right to have them quietly
Under a cellular radar
And should,
Like Penelope or fate,
We have to unloom the loom
Each night,
We’ll have another day
To reweave
With what we have
To raise our masks
Like players on an ancient
Stage,
To love close up
And as current love requires
From far away
x
CLC
x
https://areadingwritr.wordpress.com/
read her great and open work
x
Photo by Josh Redd on Unsplash
x
Recent Comments