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Speak for a Nation

(x = space)

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Speak for a Nation

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Receiving a message from the Lord

was rare in those days; revelatory

visions were infrequent.

(1 Samuel 3:1b)

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Prophets have jobs

Usually doing something else

Until the words are called for,

Until the wind

Blows through

Every atom

We think of them as crazy,

But they’re not

There is relentless urgency

Is all

Repent, while you’re alive

Don’t wait for judgment

And the fire

Leaders, most of all

You are double-cursed

If you do it wrong

Return to the temple

Pray in litany

And all humility

For a change and

For a change,

Recovering the modesty

In service that dressed you

Before fame

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We think they’re crazy, sometimes

Maybe they are

From time to time

But there is authenticity

And love of service,

Such as those in stadiums

At podiums

Behind the microphones

Must have

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C L Couch

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Photo by Pavel Brodsky on Unsplash

A slow shutter-speed rendition of a BBQ fire.

Meron Mountain

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(New English Translation

verse indentations by me)

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Lent 12

Lent 12

 

The disciples number

A baker’s dozen with Matthias,

An added treat

According to the lot

The dark or the light mark

That selected him

 

But in our story,

There are Marys

To teach us about calling

And a cause

 

The mother of Jesus

The Magdalene who first told of

The second life of Jesus

And was not believed

Mary the mother of disciples

These three count for much

And more

 

Yet often go uncounted

If not in symbol

Then in leadership

 

Who is the disciple

Who is my neighbor

Who shall rule among us

More lots

 

Or let God do the casting

If we notice, we might see

It’s done

Call Mary to be mother

Call Mary to be mother and to keep

Things in her heart

Until a time

 

Call Mary to be testifier

To correct the doubting

And give hope to those who are

Falling, collapsing from inside

 

Terrified, isolated, waiting

For nothing good

To happen anymore

 

Marys offer differing words

Of discipline, inner strength, and

Capability

No other

When other men have run away

 

C L Couch

 

 

File:The Three Marys at the Tomb LACMA

Domenico Piola (Italy, Genoa, 1627-1703)

Italy, 17th-18th century Drawings Brown ink and wash Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Blanke (M.72.124.2) Prints and Drawings

 

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Ages Past

Ages Past

 

What do we remember of

The ancient past,

Time of kings

(male and female)

Who had all sorts of power

Given them atop a chain

With an allowance for divine authority

 

We have some now,

The kind by claim of blood

And those self-styled

I’m hoping we outgrow them all

Christians have one king

(female, male)

All of us enjoy the rank of steward

While failing by degrees in our obligations

Other traditions (or none) might have

Everything together with some leadership

With some success,

I’m not sure

 

We can look for leaders

Pass by those who want the job

Look for those who can

 

Ignore legacy crafted

By humans,

Ignoring other claims as well

Consider today

Choose now

The adherence of the house

And running it

By those who can

 

Who might help us

Not by surrogacy

But by reminding us in action

How each of us is called

 

C L Couch

 

 

Nicepng.com

 

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The Formal Feeling

The Formal Feeling

(title from Emily Dickinson)

 

Catharsis after tragedy

The sad rush we feel, knowing

The experience is over, that we got it

Vicariously,

That it will not happen to us

And by the way

The community depicted now is stronger

It’s after the terrible and blessed

Have both transpired

And watchers leave the scene

(we leave the theatre)

To go home, chastened and relieved

It wasn’t us

They got their due

Their nation will be better

Let’s go home

 

It’s not closure

(what is)

For a future ticket will bring it all to

Action, opportunity, and desire

For mortal flaws to seed

And then to flourish

And are these analogues for

Life outside

Well, for those who must

Who will not learn

By mastery of organs or

Of language

Who will not hear

And will not heed delaying paradise

So not to have it at all

 

C L Couch

 

 

image from a production of Hamlet, 1899

 

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