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Everything Is Listening

(x = space)

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Everything Is Listening

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It is a fallen world:

Fallen people,

Fallen nature,

Maybe primal good

As in

Genesis

Until the fruit is eaten

Then everything is

Changed

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What kind of universe

Allows such a fall

From the marrow

To the skin

And in the air

The slough above the skin?

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A universe that’s made

With allowance

From its maker

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Everything made

Real

With real alternatives,

Real consequences

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Real joy

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Real loss

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The chance for one thing

Or the other;

Chance matters

Choice matters more

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What we choose

Moves the Earth,

Maybe heaven

A little

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Heaven malleable enough

For a third

To fall away,

The Earth more so

Affected by our choices

Mortal

Inside mortality

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Save the Earth,

Save each other:

This can be done

With faith

And better choices

After faith

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We believe—help

Our unbelief

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What shall we say?

What shall we do?

How shall we live?

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We are fallen;

Our choices mingle

With the dust

Of ages;

We have an age,

This age

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We have flaws

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We have hope

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We know a better way

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The prophets and the angels

Tell us

Of repentance

And good news

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C L Couch

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Photo by Mohsen Samimi on Unsplash

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The Hour

(x = space)

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The Hour

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When I met with

My spiritual director,

He’d light a light

Between us

For our consideration

A flame that moved

That might have made a noise

Though we couldn’t hear it

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It was our time to talk

But we’d be quiet

First

That was good

That was good tension

That was coaching

From the universe:

To be quiet for a time,

To give better time to listen

When it was time

To talk

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C L Couch

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Photo by Brian Gomes on Unsplash

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Justification

(x = space)

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Justification

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Just as if I had

Never sinned,

That’s how I was taught

The word

Like at-one-ment

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Hope in the small things,

Yes?

Though these are words

Behind which are big things

That sanctify

(big word)

Reconcile

(another)

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You see, the small things count

The extra sleep

The better cup of coffee

The crispy toast

I live for these

And things like these

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But there are the big things

Like repentance,

Reconciliation

The kind of things that bring

The prodigal home,

That cause a feast

Once sealed back into family

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There are the things

That don’t require

Big words

Faith, hope, and love

But might need bigger understanding

Or maybe only

Pay attention

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God is simple, too

Three letters, three parts

And one

Anything that’s three and one

Helps to explain it

The shamrock

The states of water,

As you know

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The simple

The profound

The rest for exercise

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We sin

We can make it up

We can be snow

Or lightless night

We are returned

To the next day

To try

Better this time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Lenstravelier on Unsplash

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All Love

(x = space)

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All Love

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All of us

For Jesus

All of each of us

I heard it in Sunday School

Today

Sure, you may have it

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Really?

If Jesus wants this broken body

And this tired mind

And all the loves

Requited, unrequited

Then

Jesus may have them

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Is that so much?

Not really—you

May have it

Have it all,

Jesus

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C L Couch

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Photo by Matt Marzorati on Unsplash

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Deception

(x = space)

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Deception

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A devotional

Means devotion

Means devoted

Attending and obeying

A liege lord

There is one, only one

Who may pull rank

On all of us,

Stewards in the realm

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A king, one king

Call it queen

There might be jesters in

The courts of heaven

Reminding us

That foolish to the world

Is wise

Fools for stewards,

Then

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The world, though,

Might only get angel cacophony

From those who hear

The choirs of heaven

Over the fields

And do not believe

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The shepherds

They are wiser

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

“Electromagnetic Crown”

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Counting Spring

(x = space)

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Counting Spring

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The winter is like spring

Today

Not cold,

Blustery

Keep your balloons inside

It will turn back

He saw his shadow, after all

(don’t worry—he’s not

so accurate)

We’ll need balm to fly the kite

Warmth to whet the wind

That’s when spring

Is real

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C L Couch

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Photo by Emanuel Haas on Unsplash

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Nonsense

(x = space)

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Nonsense

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Some days make sense

Not this day

Maybe half

The half of me that slept and ate

And feels neither hot nor cold

And has energy to power

This machine

Into which I’m writing

And, for now, through which

You might be reading

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Which is how I’m handling

The other half

The scarred, bleeding, twisted

Other half

That might be more than half

Tomorrow

Because I know there have been days

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And this part needs

Understanding

As in compassion, yes,

But understanding

Like math

Like where the cities are

On a map

Like the aspect of pain

That cries that this is wrong

Unreasonable

To a listening God

Who loses us,

We’re sure

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Whose mortal timing, self-imposed,

Becomes weighted

And unshifting

Providence

Today

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C L Couch

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Photo by Arash Asghari on Unsplash

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Dream Team

(x = space)

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Dream Team

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I haven’t slept

I’m waiting

Any moment now

I’ve closed my eyes

Lain still

Got as comfortable

As I could

Not enough

Morpheus is for dreams

I can’t recall who is

For sleep

Do the muses visit?

How about someone

From another

Group,

Egyptian or

A Mayan?

I’m more than willing

To negotiate

For obeisance

In exchange for

Some hours

Of nothing more

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C L Couch

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Wilhelm von Gloeden (1856–1931), Hypnos. The title (“Sleep” in Greek) comes from the fact that the boy holds two flowers of Brugmansia (a.k.a. “datura”), having a hypnotic effect.

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Horde

(x = space)

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Horde

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Today is my mother’s birthday

She would be in her nineties, now

She died in her fifties

Cancer got her

Got inside my father, too

Is inside my brother

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I could swear, but calling it

A bastard doesn’t matter

Cancer doesn’t care

It simply comes to cells and changes

Them so that they’re not good

Anymore

Like turning faithful into infidels

Except, again, cancer isn’t interested

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As far as we know

It has no soul

It simply ruins everything

And we can’t cure it yet

Though there are treatments

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Hard, difficult,

Life-changing treatments

Not like quinine (vitamin C) for scurvy

Not like the shots

That kept and keep

Polio and small pox away

Cancer treatments are harsh and

Guarantee nothing

The cancer might not go away

It might go away

And then come back

Survivors have success stories

But we are so far from

Eradication

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We should include a clause in every

Contract, every negotiation

Domestic, international

A commitment to take part

In eliminating

Cancer

With ongoing maintenance,

A best and last campaign

Into whatever hell

Is fit for plagues

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C L Couch

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Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

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