courses
my abdomen
hurts
maybe from pressing on it
to be seated
maybe from gas
maybe
due to medication
maybe from stress of
maybe
something
existential
how is the day
and how’s the world
and how
much
should I care
and how shall my problems
go away
while this
side of
eternal matters
shall justice roll
my tiny stream
down to
a universal
sea
and shall that sea
move
indifference
to my causes
and
of course
it shall
it has its own concerns
with mortal storms
and all
and yet
the molecules of God
are with me
in mine
maybe a neutrino
or a quark
while the greater hand
might move with waves
to stir
or calm
that sea I think
cannot consider me
and the whole body
moved from forming Earth
into managing
the stars
as we say
in their courses
enforcing orbits
exacting
something like
cosmic obedience
though allowing for
the unpredictable
the errant comet
rascal
asteroid
as part of
divine predictability
contraries
embraced by
opposites uplifted
so that a little chaos
be allowable in
order
than back to you
and back to me
and how do we count
by God
and yet
we do
our bodies
on our bits of land
which is to say we
occupy
not own
and by the water
moving our concerns
toward that ocean
of collectiveness in which
it seems
impossibly
our matter
matters
too
everything we are
our cells
our abstract notions
with the uncounting qualities
of thinking
all emotions
of our loves
we may realize at any time
how remarkable
the small
however might be small
while larger things go
obviously from
that start of
things
day and night
Earth and all
and all in all
with each bit owned
if
maybe tallied
by beneficence
which is to say
God knows
and judges
and whose greater bias
as God
is to note all things
and love
all things
a refrain
the sea is so large
while
my boat so small
the merest of God’s breathing
for my sails
and shall I cross
and shall I transact
and then
shall I return
by the light that someone made for
home
(it would be proper if you thought of the Breton prayer upon reading what I'm calling "a refrain”)
C L Couch
Photo by Osman Rana on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Missio
x
Oh, Lord,
Too many things
Are going wrong
And yet I’m here
You are here
Things could be worse
It always can be said
And it’s true
How precious are my things
Over someone else’s?
Well, they’re not:
Not to say that
I don’t count
Maybe it’s to speak
To the preciousness
Of things,
Which are not
But life, well yes, life
Matters
It’s what we have
And all we have when
We go to the other side
x
So what matters?
Maybe nothing much
Except the spirit
Except that on this side
Of things,
There should be
So much less
Suffering
Especially the kind we can
Inflict on each other
Imagining
If we didn’t start so many
Wildfires
You know that most of them
Are human-made
You know
Amen
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Alex Lvrs on Unsplash
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clcouch123 
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