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
Artist Colony
Do I have
Anything
To share with you
Today
I could
And should remind you
God is love
And also
By the way
That God is true
As nothing else is true
In fact
Is the model
For the truth and
Trueness
That we try
And truth builds justice
Out of reason
And humility
The better things
That we have going
Not being
God
But being made
And image-like
(dark glass
you know)
We are models
With gifts
And what shall we give
Out of our giftedness
Our making
Now we make
And our
Giving matters
So much to
Each other
And also
More than we think on it
To God
So make
Co-make
And give
Even as the world
And circumstance allow
For God is love
And we are love
In this
We are the best we are
On the best Earth there is
Care
And health
And contribution
Shall keep us in
Our giving
And receiving
To take
Care
Be healthy
Let others help
(remember crafting tables)
Be love
While giving love
And
Who knows
Truth and justice might
Will out
In love
C L Couch
Photo by Tom Parsons on Unsplash
A photo that speaks for itself.
[photographer’s caption]
At first, I thought this was Washington, D.C. But it isn’t. But I suppose it could be anywhere, with or without an impressive building in the background.
[my caption]
London, United Kingdom
(x = space)
x
x
A Gift from Western Asia to the World
(on the day of Saint Nicholas)
x
God
It’s dark
The light is coming
Like Immanuel
Who’s here
And always coming
To the call of the season
Advent
After all
x
Like the advent of the airplane
Or hybrid roses
Bred intentionally
Everywhere
x
For good or ill
We co-invent new things
And yet in a dark street
Like my own
With one light for company
You came into
The world
Seemingly deserted
Certainly bereft
Of a savior
Who would match divinity
With barbarism
To save us
All barbarians
x
Who knew nothing
Of an inner life
With you
Except by accident
Of prophets
And some other heroes
So that we knew of virtue
And your name
Beyond your name
But in a real way
To have such things
Well
We were lost
x
And in that town
Razed and rebuilt
So many times
Under one light
You came
Nicene
Human and
Divine
To bridge the damnable gap
That we had built
Through consequence
Of sin for will
And simply keeping
Only
To our side
x
To bring us over
Come to us first
As at the first
There was creation
And now
Reconciliation
For the one-sided
Who remain
Lost that way
x
And shall you give by grace
To every generation
Hope in each one born
Offered many times
In each one’s
Life
To appreciate what’s on the other side
Of you
And us
To model the walking over
Four ourselves
And for our children
x
And shall we call this grace
Of something else
It is the same
The offer of salvation
Through bridge-building
In the flesh
Of your child
The child that’s you
And us
Somehow
x
The advent
And the miracle
On arrival
x
Such wonder
Such bliss
A reality
In the making
That the world needs
And typically doesn’t know
Until we meet you
And teach us
All about the bridge
Live on both sides
At last
And then offering
By will
To take us to the middle
And we both
Also with steps of our own
Pass to the other side
x
All of which to say
Merry Christmas
Maybe we’ll see you
In this room
At this place
On Earth
And everywhere
And at the bridge
The most
Extraordinary gift
You are
For us
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Darya Tryfanava on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Excelling
x
Sigh
Jesus said
And thereby says
To love
And not
To worry
To know the hairs
And sparrows
Are all counted
And caught
In providential hands
x
To love
Even though there might be
Swords
And thorns
Pierced souls
And persecuted spirits
While the world
Takes our offerings
Jeering
At how much
While taking it
Away
x
But love
Bread and stones
Gall for wine
Yet plenty in the teaching
And the largesse
When it matters
The giving of the Lord
Who slakes the thirst
Of Samaritans
While those Samaritans
Help their neighbors
On the road
x
The strangeness in giving
What we have
What we don’t
The offer
And the follow-through
The love
All loves
Excelling
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Wealth of Nations
x
O God
For invocation
Oh, God
To plea
Our world groans
With war
And the imbalance
Of the greedy
Systems
x
Justice should be a system
Greed is not good
Unless you’re winning
For a while
While all our cells corrupted
May yet cry for mercy
x
The ears to hear
Might be
The last to go
x
God
Help us
And forgive us
The Earth is ours
And we forget
And leave it to a few
Who vote for nothing
But self-fattening
And a self-deceiving glimpse
Of real power
x
Let all rise
(the poorly-
agendaed, too)
To march
Or stand in place
To sing
As if
Accompanying Earth
With all the antiphons
The spheres above
Below
That glide
And when against each other
Glory in the sacred touch
The music
Of all order
And all chaos,
Arranged
As creation’s gift
x
And this is wealth
Not the other
Once we feed each other
And can stand or march
(or sit with age
or disability
and purpose)
To hear the strains
Of everything
And offer ours
x
Our gift
Unto the glory
Of Earth
And all-around’s,
Of God’s all
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Illiya Vjestica on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
If Not Charity
x
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
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Gabrielle Mustapich on Unsplash
Emerald waves from above.
x
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.
2 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.
3 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)
x
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
Philemon’s Pitcher
(Advent, anytime)
I pour water from the Brita
And think of Philemon’s pitcher
A wonderful story
I’m not sure about the judgey part
But the provision part
Is glorious
If you don’t know
(and if you do),
There was an old couple in
Still more ancient Greece
Living near a town that was
Beautiful in appearance, though the
People there were
Took glory too far
They were vain and unwelcoming
Of those who were not they
They lived well
Strangers were not taken in
Nor impoverished neighbors,
Such as Bacchus and Philemon
They lived poorly
In a hovel
They had worked hard,
But now there was nothing
And one evening they set out
The last of what they had
For they would surely starve by
The next day
A cluster of worn grapes
A pitcher filled with drops of bitter wine
They last meal together
Then two persons appeared in the
Doorway,
And they asked for comforts
Food and afterward a place to sleep
Wife and husband exchanged a glance
Then apologized
To strangers
We have little space
And our food is poor
But we are glad to share with you
If you will, be welcome here
With us
The visitors were pleased and thanked their hosts
And sat down to eat and drink
What might not even share among
The four of them
But when
The wine poured from the pitcher,
It was wondrous
Rich in red and filled with
Savor once tried
And when the grapes were offered,
They appeared full richly on the plate
And were sweet to taste
And satisfying
And the four at table feasted
On small miracles
Once sated
All lay down to rest
What coverings there were,
Bacchus and Philemon presented
To their guests
And in the morning
The couple woke beneath marvelous cloths
And their raiment appeared richly sewn
Their hovel was a house
Of polished marble, the furnishings all
Castle-grand
They walked outside into the sun
And in the valley where the town of
The conceited lay,
There was now a lake
Whose surface shown in judgment
Nothing more was seen
Then they knew
If not before
That they had been visited by gods
Who rendered service rendered
From the welcoming
Like that of kings and queens
And thought unasked for
Reward turned into recompense
And so we know
Something of receiving strangers
Who give no cause but need
Be inclined to welcome them
For we might be entertaining angels,
Unaware
C L Couch
https://grabcad.com/library/pitcher-of-wine
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