Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Open Search
Tag

love

Burying the Unknown Dead

Burying the Unknown Dead

A ministry, non-sectarian, in
Boston

Students from a private
School—senior-students
From a private school

Attend to one, an unknown
Man, somewhere with a
Name but no one to claim
And care for his mortal
Remains

“But today we are his family,
We are here as his sons . . .”

Pallbearers, recitations of
Free and liturgical verse—
These youth provide all

To bear the body and,
Finally, kindly lay with
Loving intention into the
City’s yard and ground

In Boston, it’s a frozen
Day, yet there is some light

Because hope of all kinds
And times and mortal or
Immortal prophecies—

Hope blazes here

(reported at npr.org for
25 January, “Today We
Are . . .” by Arun Rath)

2

Claustrophobe

Claustrophobe

Am I trapped on
the second floor?
My town for now
has the greater
accumulation,

And I realize this
is maybe too much.
I look out:

all I see are shapes
of indistinction;
I can’t even see
that well for
vapor pushing
up against my
window, making
visual barriers
in condensation.

The storm is Jonas;
that’s fine. If you
can escape the
hunt of God by

living for days in
a great fish—before
being retrieved by
hunter’s hand (let’s
say)—then I not
hunted by the
divine with the
exception to be
loved,

then I can weather
this—well, you
know–weather.

4

MLK(J)

MLK(J)

More than letters,
Though there were
Amazing ones, is
Love that suffuses

Not to claim
Perfection–I
Could not I do that
For myself

But gentle, numbered
Overwhelming
Victory
Is for those who
Outlast imperfection,

Even as they with
Finality close trap-
Jaws of persecution

Marching persistence
Realizing still, always in
Grace, wondrous change

0

Long Good Bye Tomorrow

Long Good Bye Tomorrow

Did you know that in Malawi,
you go to jail for being gay
or lesbian? It’s not a fine
or manageable penalty, if
severe;

it’s in supermax for life. The
nation of Malawi did not
invent this punishment. It
happens elsewhere. A crime
like this—classed with arson, theft,
or witchcraft—still earns time
away from real life forever.

An indictment for being homosexual
that promises permanent
captivity. You know, I have an
opinion, a feeling, a value about
homosexuality: about heterosexuality,
too. My feeling’s firm enough, rather
set. And, day by
day, it is about

the most useless thing I own. You
see, behind the issues there are
people. And love transcends
issues and viewpoints. Love
overwhelms other human
convictions.

5

Psalm 7, a small song of praise

Psalm 7
a small song of praise

Praise you, Lord, for
Three-legged cats that
Are still great birders
And dogs with broken backs
That can still run the length
Of the yard

Praise you for hearts that
Still work, even after surgeries
That won’t fix everything
Completely and forever

Praise you for liberal-arts degrees
And mini-strokes and all
The things that make us strange

Praise you, Lord, for I am strange
And yet you love me, still, and
Maybe even more

2

poem I love

This is a poem that I love.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

(published many times by Houghton Mifflin; this quotation is from the first volume—typically, the series is published in three volumes—The Fellowship of the Ring)

I could think of many poems that have meaning: “Church-Going” by Philip Larkin; “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson; “Diving into the Wreck” by Adrienne Rich; any dramatic monologue by Robert Browning. And so on. But a poem I love?

I love this one. Parts of it are often quoted, so I guess there are others who love the poem, too. It has no title, but it’s in the voice of Aragorn and is sometimes published as “Strider.” And, yes, Tolkien is a favorite writer of mine; and his works have been meaningful to me since I was an adolescent.

I love the poem because it’s wise. It speaks of what’s true and what is good. And what goodness there is to come when things are renewed.

And it’s a song.

8

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑