hymn contemporary
the church’s one foundation
(still) is Jesus Christ, her lord
the church is she
like the damsel in distress
needing rescue
Christ is the hero
drawing her
from the drowning water
cutting her ties
by the villain
to the railroad tracks
like a melodrama
and why not
we’re talking about
villains and heroes
and mortgages
and the need for something better
as in more
than who we are
and we go on to sing
that Jesus will not fail
which is not bad
which is good
in a hero
coda
next hymn
or next version
the church will be a he
and will be rescued
by a she
by the female hero
who is Christ
like Zenobia
or Boudica
but better than the Romans
defeating the inimical
forever
and other genders
or what is genderless
in life
that has life
the organic
I suppose
the inorganic
too
there is a Lord
not only over all
but who is all
to make the rest
only a little separate
in the deified scheme of things
by identity
and purpose
and will
c l couch
("The Church's One Foundation" is a Christian hymn; this morning a contemporary fusion of the hymn was shared)
photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash
(x = space)
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Floods, Swords (two poems)
could read the second of them while waiting on the first
x
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Consider Extra Floods
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Jackson
And Jacksonville
Puerto Rico
Cuba
Indonesia
Pakistan
Recently, in Europe
Maybe here on Friday
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The Earth warms
The polar shelves
Send sheets of ice
Into the ocean
Water rises
x
Storms increase
Maybe we should
Appreciate complaint
From our own
Planet
From the core to the skies
And those of us
All of us
On middle ground
Between the hell and heaven
Spirituality
Counting its own cost
In faith and lives
Of our own globe
In a waiting cosmos
x
x
Consider Broken Swords
(Lord of the Rings)
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Sting was never fixed,
Which would have been bad
For marketing
Though reminding
If not teaching
Us quite rightly
For the story
That the sharpest swords
Don’t have to win the day
And brokenness and heroes
Go together
x
The famous sword
The one that sang for Aragorn
Is fixed by Elven smiths
And ready for the final fights
In Rohan
Osgiliath
Minas Tirith
At the Black Gate
At last
These are the heroes whom we know
The king revealed
Wanderer and healer
The sword
That has a greater name
With supernal persona
Magic
In personality,
In character
As it were
x
But Sting
Is in a box
In Rivendell
Until it’s brought out
For a hobbit’s use
An unknown being
Anonymity its armor
(which had served the king
for a time)
They would sting another spider
Fill with poison
Topping off the stinging burden
Of an eldritch thing
And promises
Nothing healing
‘Til the mountainside
And going in
To face the fire
x
Goodness, there are heroes
There are lives
That serve the world
That sacrifice all pleasures
And promises
To take on one great evil
In front of armies
On one’s own
Inside mountains
At the gate
Of hell on Earth
Of hell on Middle-Earth
For all of us, between
x
The small sword
Is character as well
Four heroes, as it were,
Famous
On the surface
Or unfamous,
Inside holes for homes
Then mines and caves
Tunnels without songs
Until at home again
To rest
When things are done
Awaiting passage to
A healing land
x
Five heroes
Add two more
Then seven
Then many more
And villainous
And in-between corrupt
Great wars to settle things
The hobbits home at last
We close the books
So are we
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Octavian Dan on Unsplash
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(x = space)
x
x
Switchback
x
God is love
God is God
Of social rites
And more
x
God is God
Where there’s war
And wounding
In the midst and after crimes
To help the victims
In other disasters
God is there
You might not think
x
When it’s difficult
And heartbroken
The story has not ended
Though we’re sure
That everything is done,
Finished and badly
x
There is light
Not to say that dark is bad
But that light on its own
Is necessary
A better word
Small illumination
Also call it wisdom
There is another page
The story proceeds
Call it hope
And we may hope
Sometimes there are heroes
Sometimes we must own heroes
As ourselves
However flawed we believe
Ourselves to be
x
Carrying light
Can do so much
To find the wounds
To treat them
Pray away
Fight in other ways
The devastation,
Frankly aware
When there are
Evils
x
There are more pages
And our storybooks are kept in heaven
Keep going, here
Don’t forget to rest
To wake
To drink
To eat
And then
And then
To rise
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Filip Mroz on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
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Reading Romance, Gothica (two poems)
x
x
Reading Romance
x
Standing there,
Waiting for approval,
The ingenue wonders
If she should
Enter the room
x
Strangers, unaware,
Are dancing to a
Waltz she’s known
Since childhood
Always listening
From the stairs,
A risky place for
Children, though with
Darkness behind
And light pouring from
The party floor,
Sneaking a look at
Parties was
Irresistible
x
I’m sure you understand
x
Now she’s here,
Inside the first
Arc, grown up
Into her story:
Does someone wait
Inside? Should
She remain inside
The question mark
Or take another step
Step toward
Confirmation,
The start of
Act 5, then
Resolution?
x
Questions demand
Answers; they
Crawl along the
Bannister; she’ll
Take the step
So we might breathe
Into the
Final chapters
x
x
Gothica
x
Tarn,
A Gothic word
For swamp
(try moor
in the British Isles)
x
I look up through
The window
At black branches
Fronting a sky of unformed
Cloud, tunneling
Everything to gray
x
November’s tilting;
We head
Toward winter’s reign,
Cold and gloomy
All our storytelling
x
There might be a
Ghost—there certainly
Will be ghosts
Inhabiting one place,
One will or another
x
The house that
Has a crack in it,
Ready to descend
With all the
Failing generations
(I think you know
the one I mean)
x
But there’s
A house of every heart,
A sprit calling
At the door or, when
Unattended,
Wailing like a banshee
Uncommissioned
x
Everything will
Open and then close up
At the last
x
A deserted house—the
Tarn shall have it
(the swamp, the moor)
From which may
Emerge new
Heroes to try
x
x
C L Couch
x
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Photo by Tim Rebkavets on Unsplash
Eltz Castle, Wierschem, Germany
We woke up at 3am so we could drive to Germany. We arrived just in time for sunrise and that’s how this shot came to live. The reflection was made with the reflection of the screen of my phone.
x
Look Up in the Sky
Skinny jeans
Yoga pants
A fascination with boots
Tight clothes on both genders
All we’d need are capes:
Are we trying to dress like
Superheroes?
Is there a signal
Or a red Bat-phone
To call us to our lair,
Prepare certain formulas
Then out into the world to
Save the day?
Is our wish
For a fortress, where
Alone or with a protégé
We might know ourselves,
Learn our power,
Understand the Earth
And all its forces
Marshalled to our strength?
We want superpowers,
Don’t we?
Of course, we do
And why not
Telepathy could solve so
Many problems
And who wouldn’t want to go
Through the day without
Some invulnerability?
Our children
Our cars
All the machines we have in life
Everything turned toward
Fighting evil
Promoting justice,
Let all be good
All we need are capes
And some of us have these
C L Couch
Amelia Earhart prior to her transatlantic crossing of June 17, 1928
Wide World Photos – eBayfrontback, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36943383
Allow Me
Let me introduce myself
I’m the one who’s on the other side
Of the story
No longer can I qualify the
Hero set on a horse
Questing for a sword with which
To win a realm of
Sparkling towers and one to be rescued
Inside
Who might instead
Rescue me
(I’m not that good at feints and lunges)
Maybe I could serve as a
Wizard (fine word from Arabic,
because the calling is exotic—would an Arab
ever find me exotic?)
I know little of enchantments
But when it comes to mistakes to
Learn someone against,
Yes, I’m there
It could be fun to mentor someone who could be
A monarch
Or a tailor or a teacher
Or a plumber or any child to
Grow up someday
I imagine, too,
It will break my heart
As all good teachers feel
With a loss
Or a win
C L Couch
A Coda for the Hero
A face broken by my pain
Looks down at me
While I fade into unbordered places
All perception rendered into
What will come
Sleep, I hope
And good dreams for a change
And wakefulness to a world
I could never know
Until I come upon it
You’ll be there
And everyone
The everyone I can recall
And so many new to meet and
Love for the first time
C L Couch
9/11 Photos, Creative Commons 2.0
Hero Today, Please
Beneath Glastonbury tor
Lies who knows what
Maybe it’s better to
Let the legend lie
Until the ground is split
In later days
And the hero rises
This is what it means to be
A once and future story
So real a return is
Promised
We must have it again
In greatest need
And for now, each time
We need to have the tale told
In present time
In days requiring
Some solace while it’s raining
Or inspiration as of
A venial
Version of an
Easter morn
C L Couch
note
T. H.White wrote The Once and Future King, a novel.
Enrique Íñiguez Rodríguez (Qoan) – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=68496773
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