fish Friday
it’s a gray day
should it get darker
it will look more
than
a fish Friday
in Lent
we’ll hear the silence
the press
of what
will feel more
the smell of storm
for now
the taste
of dry moments
is it a desert
underneath the gray
a world
we will not recognize
has only
death to offer
after all rewards
of Earth
and us
a plane
that has no feature
(worse than deserts)
no signals
no direction
anything
to show a way
to make sense of
any steps
we might try to take
while on this
measureless
level
that might not be level
for
we could be upside-down
or inside-out
then wake up
to Friday
and it’s Lent
the season still
a still
season
have the fish
go to church
whatever
make it count
whatever
listen
watch
and learn
our faith
and our existence
might rely
on these
here
there are
symbols and signs
arrows
stones in a line
weights
to appreciate
and even try to carry
in a season
one walked this way
and every step
a burden
smoothed
wickedly
by sweat
and blood
we’re on our knees
we also
try to walk
that way
the steps now dried
through ages
wearing
ritual
the chance for meaning
or indifference
our choice
like the choice
for faith
Friday
Lent
and the other days
without fat or sugar
or without
tradition
make tradition
with the faith that is forever
that unchanges for
our ages
mutable
and
so very
needful
c l couch
photo by James Coleman on Unsplash
[photographer’s caption follows]
I took this on the 22nd of April 2019, on the day I heard of the bombing of 3 churches on Easter Day in Sri Lanka. Jesus weeps with you.
long season
(means lengthen)
day of ash
season of thought
also season of service
and of
sacrifice
though all seasons behoove
today
ash on foreheads
ash made
from last year’s palms
and might look like a cross
for a while
then those who say
sorry
you have dirt
on your face
I thought you’d want
to know
c l couch
photo by Randy Laybourne on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
On the First Day
x
Ash Wednesday
Let’s have ash
Upon our foreheads
Crosses that will smudge
And that’s all right
Throughout
The day into
The evening
For the season
x
We say it’s for remembrance
Of death
And our mortality
But our foreheads are warm
There’s temperature beneath
And all the little crosses
Bearing small,
Smudged,
And living
Testimony
Everywhere
x
Not bad for evangelism
Contraindicated for a show
Rather a story of
Black, loving humility
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Taylor Flowe on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Drastic Season
x
Soon it will be Lent
Time to think
Of Jesus
For all the times
Out scatter-gun approach
(sheesh)
Hopes to hit the mark
x
Forty days
With time off
For Sundays
For Communion
For the Catholics,
A churchly kindness
x
Otherwise,
We count
And do not count
For who says
Well, today is Lent 19
When we have it
In a book
If we must know
x
No, the season moves
Slowly
(it’s even in the name)
And we wish
For Easter treats
Especially because
We might give up something
For these days
x
It is tradition
And some choose
Something that it’s
Helpful
(healthy)
To avoid for a time
If not forever
x
Something small
Like caffeine
Something bigger
Like adultery
Or other
Eldritch bond
The priest might say
If saying
That is mortal
Meaning uneternal
For our lives
x
My, that would be a season
Of such change
To right a wrong
And who decides
Not priest
Or even angel on the shoulder
But the motivation
Of one’s own
In time
x
And such a season
Angels would approve
Though the loss
Of what sin brings
Forever
Shall seem to hurt that way
For the while
While things change
For forty days
(now a dreadful count)
And fifty
And beyond
x
As the healthy sun
Lights from far
The mortal planet
That in renewal
Might have something better
In its molecules
And the un-atomed spirits
After judgment
Knowing joy
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by James Coleman on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Common Passion
(Lent)
x
O God, our help
Help me
Christ will be entering
Jerusalem soon
That’s too much for me
I wouldn’t go
I don’t like crowds
And as for all the blood
That follows
There was a crowd for that
As well
I’m not sure
Where I fit in
In the Passion story
To hear it, I suppose
Find my way to talk about it
Wish so much of it
Had not happened,
Starting with the first
Beating
x
Who are you?
What is your authority?
What is truth?
Skeptic questions
Without the thorns,
They could be honest
Without the torture
One might really want
To know
x
We can ask
Without all that
It’s been done for us
As story
As clean pages in a book
That might get stained
With water
Or with coffee
Accidents happen
So does providence
A week away
We’ll find out how it goes
I’ll take the quieter vantage point,
Thank you
After the crowds have gone
Maybe I’ll get a glimpse
Of the body
As it’s taken
Or the bodies of the thieves
Taken to paupers’ graves
Most likely,
Since there were no placards
On their crosses
Or on mine
Or maybe yours
Who were they?
Who am I?
Who are we?
We die without accord
Because no one knows
Our faces
Or our places
We die in a city at
The center of the Earth
Too much is happening there
Move on
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳 on Unsplash
x
(x = spaces)
x
x
Slow Season
x
1
Lord,
It is Lent
Moving slowly as it should
Forty days or so
In a couple weeks, Palm Sunday
Triumph and then the Triduum
Days of friendship
And of torture
For our Lord
For you
Ignominy
Then death
Then in the earth
Like a seed that has no merit
As no growth is expected,
Behind a stone
In fact
Lent closes over
That way
While we wait
Not knowing
We should wait for anything
x
2
Half the world is at war
My God,
What do we do to each other?
What grace is kept
Withheld
Like a body in a tomb
We’d try not to open
For fear of the revenant
We’d find inside?
Forgive us, anyway
Save us, anyway
By something so, so precious
That in the world we cannot escape
That finds us
Even though we say
Get away,
I want no part of you
Before the rooster crows
x
3
And what is grace
But something sliced
Through everything
That it is as good
As if
Dispensed only through itself
No keepers on Earth
Not the church
(don’t think it)
Or the world
(won’t think it)
God’s surprise
Surprised by peace
And then delight
Don’t think it comes in
Any other way
It is wild
If there is timing,
It only knows its own
It comes to save
Better than a plan
Or pre-requirements met
Don’t ask except
To ask of it
That is all right
It can act as if it hears
The one releases
It can hear
And for our malaprops
And misinformed
Hears us, anyway
x
coda
My people cry
I must respond
They ask badly
If at all
I want to hear them, anyway
I will respond
x
Something like it
Says the Lord
In songs
And other prophecies
And the amazing grace
Of love
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Christina van der Merwe on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Wintry Weekend
(in the forecast)
x
God
Help us
On a Lenten Friday
Fish Friday, maybe
Yum
Or only the side dishes
To be abstemious
For the season
x
Seriously,
It is a somber time
I wish it could be
A quiet time
With normal noise
Children play
Dogs bark
Tires pressing normally
Go by
On the street
x
You know,
It’s the grownups
Who need help
Who need to understand
The opportunity
The chance to know God better
In the season
x
Why forty days?
I think largely because
Of our
Jewish parents,
If I may say parents
And the time of forty years
Spent in a wilderness
Moving toward
A promised land
Regrettably,
To conquer
x
I think Jesus
If he were
A good, Jewish man
Would know the
Number forty
Use it to count the days
In his own
Wilderness
Of silence and temptation
Before the promise
Of a ministry
Begins
x
And we wayward
Children
(grownups)
Maybe count forty, too
To have a season
Many days
To get to know you better
And all your children
Generations
Now
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Jacob Felix on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Two Days before Lent
x
There are too many
Things to pray for:
Ukraine, COVID, the
Other violence
In the world
At home
In the heart
x
As it happens,
There is a season
Starting Wednesday
A season really good
For prayer
And such
Lean living for a while,
As we can manage,
Extra services perhaps
Of kinds
x
A time whose name
Means slow and full
And other things
That say
Slow down, remember me
My teaching
From the start
As if to say
I meant creation from the start
To teach
To have us read the surfaces
As teaching and as
Starting points
From which to dig, to dive
Or from which
To fly
x
As if to say
We have this time now,
You and I,
In which to walk as if
There were a garden
In which to talk about
All things
Anything
You like
Or don’t like
But need to share with me
Because I’m wise
And all love
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Susanne Schwarz on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Convictions
(last day of Lent)
x
I look around at everything
Liturgically, it is the day before
A triumph
Such as Roman victors knew
No wonder Herod was frightened
And Pilate tactically
Concerned
None of it was sanctioned
It spoke to rebellion
Though everything was peaceful
In that way
x
I look around
And wonder about everyone
How to celebrate an arrival
And then turn on the one
A few days later
Or however long it took
x
I want to say I’m sorry
I look around at everything
And say I’m sorry
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by MAURICIO EJCHEL on Unsplash
Traditional loaf salesman at Old Town in Jerusalem.
x
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