A Quiet and Unquiet Day
(rest and restive?)
Have an especially good
Day
You need one
And you deserve one
You’ve been working hard
And putting up with
Things
You need some rest from everything
That presses
Lift those burdens
For a while
Recline your mind
Loosen the strings we say
We have
Inside our hearts
Or over them
As if the organ were a base
For a lute
A frame
For a harp
Drink something you know
You enjoy
As it courses through you
And then eat something
Pleasant
Slightly indulging
Though without doubt
For nourishment
As an objective
And now companionships
Do you want any
Or is it quiet
In the day
That you prefer
That
Maybe you’ve been craving
Without knowing
‘Til you have it
For some hours
If so
Then treat yourself after
The surprise
Reading something
Writing something
Or have a day
With nothing
For a stimulus
Beyond
Mere ingestion
While you ruminate
Or not
On what’s at hand
It could be taking stock
Only if you wish
Or must
Have a need
As in counting inventory
Gauging quality
Of what is stored
By its effect
On mind or heart
Or overall condition of
Everything internal
And to an extent
External
As in
Image and perception
Whom we cast
To the world
And who we want
To play for
Real
What is real
Take a day to figure out
Think on good things
On what among them you might have
On what you need
You might already have
For another surprise
Or what you need
That’s calling
Through its absence
So maybe take the day
And let it have its
Serious parts as well
And sorry
Wake up a little after resting
Think of something
Think on good things
What you have
As well as what is good
You need
And should have
And can get
Keeping in spirit
And in mind
That love does not exist in isolation
That there is good love to keep close
And problematic love
You might need
Well
Frankly
To cut off
To free yourself
Free someone else
Liberty
At last
Which is the truth
As well as
The law of liberty
And love
And so have the day
Both
Restful
And momentous
If you will
And if God listens
When you say
Hear me
I send my words with
Thoughts
The kind that
Heaven-go
C L Couch
(3.3.98)
Photo by Sneha Chandrashekar on Unsplash
(x = space)
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The Gifter
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Something brief and fragile
Like the low candle
Ready to touch the plate,
Run out of life
Of thread and wax to burn
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Who says “brief candle,”
Hamlet or Macbeth?
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Both ready for an end,
Relinquished from the missions
Set upon by ghosts and witches
Daggers and blood
And other apparitions
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That like the dagger
Blood on hands
In fact, all apparitions
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Might be of the mind,
Modern interpretation
Of medieval magic
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A gift of time in time
The gifter having only one
For whom the limitations
Of one time can
Never, never, never, never, never
Be enough
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C L Couch
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And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
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Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
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red light
Photo by Maeghan Smulders on Unsplash
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