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Easter

The Bridge to Thursday

(x = space)

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The Bridge to Thursday

(Holy Week)

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It is the middle of Holy Week

Who’s noticing

Who cares

Those huddled in churches

Mouthing with the pastor

Liturgies and litanies

All the holy words

And since it’s near enough

To Lent, there might be no

Communion,

Even practicing for Easter

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Some of the fun churches

(there are those)

Will bless baskets on Saturday;

All sorts of folk with

All sorts of baskets

Containing elements for

Sunday dinner

Will be there

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On the Friday before,

There will veneration

While on Thursday

An official working out

Of some kind

For the Last Supper

And the “maundy” part

Of Maundy Thursday

A command (mandatum)

To love one another,

Good reminder

For starting out the Triduum—

Or the rest

Of one’s

Of a church’s life

x

But today is Wednesday

Nothing to see here

Or hear or taste or touch

No smell of

Incense, either

Wednesday doesn’t rate

Another hump day

In the USA,

Anywhere else that arches

The week that way

x

Calm before the storm?

Hardly

There are storms, here and there

As happen

(one is brewing

outside the window),

There are the hungry

Who need big pieces of baked bread

And safe water

And more-real food

In order to sit up

Straight in church

For the coming days

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Feed the children

Feed each other

This would make a Wednesday, a

Holy Wednesday in a holy week

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C L Couch

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Photo by yvo bergers on Unsplash

Maastricht, Nederland

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Looks

(x = space)

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Looks

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Pale sky

As if in compromise

To give late-winter earth

A chance to show itself

Turning slowly

Into spring

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C L Couch

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Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

Blooming saffrons in the mountains.

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Slowdown Season

(x = space)

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Slowdown Season

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Lent could mean

Anticipation,

If we would allow for that

In the midst of conversations

About sacrifice

x

Having given up

On chocolate, we need

Something to talk about

How about why?

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Sacrifice for its own sake

Being good,

Don’t get me wrong

Though we can

Say more

About the season

About church

About reading

About us

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Lent means getting ready

Or it might

Lest we forget

Why we gave up the chocolate

Or the coffee

Or, I don’t know,

What do people give up

Nowadays?

(maybe screen time)

x

It seems we give up

Something somewhat bad

Somewhat good

Maybe it’s the excess

We surrender,

Which a good ancient Greek

Will say

Is always good

A lifestyle to adopt

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Well, we’re not here

To parse

We’re here, in fact, because

We’re unified

We want one thing

Even if delivery

Is holiday disarray

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We want a happy Easter

With rabbits

And eggs

(rabbits who lay eggs)

And back to chocolate

Like a former friend

Now reconciled

x

There is more

But it’s not mine to say

You must, must not

It is yours to say

To own a resurrection

Shown in nature

Told as story

A question and an answer

Of belief

It’s yours to say

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

Walk the Line

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The Return of the Ring

The Return of the Ring

(Easter 2020)

 

1

 

When the ring is cast into

Mount Doom, however

Accidentally, and the designs

Of the Dark Lord are done

(however accidentally),

Then everything on Middle-

Earth is turned over—for the

Better, to be sure

 

But how many things will

Need to be remade?  Certain

Friends are gone, too many

 

Heroes will rule now from afar

Those in homes not made

Of stone will have to rebuild

And refugees will need

To find their way

 

New associations will be needed

New rings of friends, and in

The rings will go perforce new

Ways of thinking that should

Go in more easily, from then on

 

2

 

It’s a day like any other

Above my head the sky is pale,

The sun trying to shine more

Beatifically

 

We make this day

In remembrance, celebration

Like a birthday

Or the celebration at the end of Ramadan

 

Is the Earth newly invested?

Is it cleaner, less hollowed-out by

Profiteering?—well, maybe a little or some

Today, when and where it’s been made

A holiday from

Such occupations along with the more

Mundane, acceptable kinds

Also on holiday

 

There is still blood on the cross,

However; no time or age

Can wash it clean

There is a chamber, carved out for

A tomb and used by someone else,

Which will never be emptier

Than when the stone was rolled

Away, than now

 

Yes, some things are supernal

Maybe there’s greater quiet on the land

Jews, Hindus, and Muslims might

Enjoy it as provided by their

Christian neighbors, friend or foe

 

3

 

So it is a day forever

And it’s only today

With the merging of the ordinary into

Realities ineffable

 

The pope will preach at vigil’s end

This year to an empty room

But not an empty planet

There will be an audience

(popes always have audiences),

This one planetary-wide

With who knows listening from another

Cosmic ring

 

The Baptists will get in on this

Even the chilly Presbyterians, boot-

Strapped by their own order

Methodists will have the

Chance,

Deserving if for no other reason than

Having saved my mother

 

After the regulars and the Anabaptists

(who are not normal in pacificity,

n’est-ce pas?),

All the other groups

All groups chime in,

For it is a time of chimes

The way Italians serenade each other

From the open edge of windows

And of balconies

With the signs that DIY-ers have assembled

And displayed in honor of

First-responders

 

Ring out Easter day

There is news

That’s always new

There is hope in the world and

All worlds

 

If you believe—

No pixie dust required—then

Jesus Christ has risen today

For you

For us

For all

Belief is not incumbent on the fact

Of resurrection

In irascible loving, starting somehow

In the garden,

It’s up to each of us

But believe or not, salvation’s

At your home

 

Regardless (sorry, I won’t be

presuming),

Here is a day

The one we have

If and as possible,

As decided,

To let pass or

To cry, to laugh, to sing, to mourn

Ordinary living, extraordinarily

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

 

 

The Sun Rises Easterly

The Sun Rises Easterly

 

He wakes

He gets up

Relief abounds

Outside the fleshy rabbit bounces

The egg, comedic, rolls like stone

Away from an opened tomb

That had been keeping the better things inside

 

He is awake

Marys there

Ready now to tell a doubting world

That it’s over, now

And everything’s beginning

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Rodion Kutsaev on Unsplash

 

Housesitting

Housesitting

 

I open the cupboard

It smells like meat and spice in there

Does the bread turn into meat and bone

Flesh of my God?

 

God under the sink

It is dark with known and unknown faces

On cartons and bottles

Pipes that traipse and current on

To who knows where

A filtration plant

So that water might return someday

 

Water, wine, and blood

The earth weeps I know in

Native sadness

Lands bleeds into water

Ocean’s tears and sadness of

The distance from creation

 

When molecules

Were shiny and new

And compounds yawned themselves

Into existence

 

The car is outside

Waiting to carry me temporarily

Somewhere

There is a crease in back

Over which “forgiveness” in a decal

Declares pardon for the small

Collision that nonetheless

Threw me into the intersection

With enough brake force

Applied so that

Only I, my car, was hit

 

Where is God in this?

God is in the civil conversation

That we had after

In the gears and fluids of the car

That still work and convey me

Thence and whence

In the shadows of the house

Whose objects I don’t

Know so well

 

God is in the corners

And the spotlights

Of our lives

 

C L Couch

 

Easter Uprising

Easter Uprising

2016

 

Some chose to mark

Easter day with willful

Murder

 

Family picnics in

Lahore Pakistan

Christians targeted

Though tell me there

Were no guests of

Islam other faith or

None

 

Day of faith and

Homely celebration

We who were not

There can nonetheless

Relate

 

Imagine those we

Love even those we

Forbear by mere

Relation

 

Scattered rent apart

Undone

 

Reunions friendly or

Indifferent never

Again

 

The soul the spire

Tying through a

Family broken taken

Away

 

Now the future holy

Day focuses alone to

Count those of us

Alive

Passion Play, Act Four

Passion Play

Act Four

 

He is arisen now

Who caused the rising

 

Disciples will say the

Spirit of God breathed

Into his body once

Again

 

So that he might walk

Upon a mortal land

To testify

And heal

 

And more simply to

Take meals with friends

 

Not a Trick

Not a Trick

Easter is a surprise, the
Rabbit out of the hat, one
Might wryly think

From where and when
Comes the trick-tradition
From Easter and the tomb,
I think, and Spring, generally,
In the land and from the
Time and place in which
Top Hats were popular

Something living retrieved
Out of nothing—something
Drawn out from the void

The rabbit is fecund (rabbits
Always are, aren’t they?),
The hat circular for the cycle
Of mortality, moving in
An immortal way

Hoping that, in coming ‘round,
One will pass the door to
Eternity, maybe to pause
There

Our magic with the rabbit
Is illusion—dedicated that
Way—but here’s what is
Real: the pure, created one
Has escaped the rounded
Maw of death, leaving (this
Time real) magic words working
As miracle

What is lifted now is living
Truth to behold

No applause needed or any
Desired, for this is grace

The cost of admission offered
Always, for all, a price to us
That’s free

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