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Good Saturday

Good Saturday

 

It wasn’t good for us

Maybe not for God

Maybe God was weeping, too,

Though could not be hiding

Part of God was buried, though

Unless the strategy to

Harrow hell is more than

A medieval story

 

But first followers have no hope

Today

Jesus is gone, buried quickly

Inside a sabbath regulation,

A guard set to keep anyone from

Trying anything

 

But disciples are not ghouls

The body did not matter, anymore

Except that there were those

Who though the body

Should be spiced,

A practical and spiritual

Measure

 

Hopeless people might not

Have cared

Jesus was gone, the movement failed

Neither the zealots nor the

Gentler ones could have their way

From him

No that there wasn’t drama:

Judas took his money, then

Destroyed his own part

In everything

 

Maybe there were those who had

If in a maudlin way

Celebrated political victory

Death of the teacher

Who had rabble-roused

And inconvenienced leadership

If only in the heart

 

Herod who lived

Might be pleased

He could set up the cross next to

The platter also soaked in blood

A museum to the worldly-

Minded

And, to those who know,

An emptiness of soul

 

Who were the followers?

Where were they?

It seemed they fled

No one among them moved

Except some women and

A young man

Nothing threatening there

 

The Earth hides quietly today

Maybe the sun will bathe

The hilltop of Golgotha

Maybe rain will do even more

To cleanse

 

The people who are left

They have no faith

No hope

They have forgotten anything about

What could happen next

They are tired, frightened, aware of

Their parts as outcasts and outlaws

 

Only a few hold on to strings of prophecy

Maybe remembering the life, the

Healings, the lessons from their teacher

But he is bodily gone

This is the dreaded day in-between

Only they don’t know

There is another side

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jordan Christian on Unsplash

Beartooth Highway, United States

 

Holey Week 7

 

3

Feel It

Feel It

(think it through)

 

We call it Good Friday,

I’m not sure why

Because it was good for us that

Jesus died and,

Like the best sin-eater that he was—

King for a day and fool

In the world’s eyes—he

Consumed our sins in

Ignoble majesty,

A perfect person without sin himself,

And died

 

Otherwise, we should call it

What it was, the

Awful Friday

Terrible in blood and wood and metal,

The sounds of weeping

And of cursing,

‘Til the sun stopped shining and the

Earth was split

Because he died

 

I sit sipping ginger ale and

Nibbling toast, while

I try to write;

This

Is no version of the meal

That instigated things, though

We call it “last”

 

If I want, I may take part

In re-living and remembering this

At church

 

There is no last for me

Or you,

As there was for him

Though we might feel it in

Fear and isolation

 

There is something more—frankly,

I’m not sure

What it is exactly—and

 

We can have it

(inexactly)

Because there was this

Good death today

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Ave Calvar on Unsplash

 

Holey Week 6

 

1

Maundy, Maundy

Maundy, Maundy

 

They had a loving supper

We know, because Jesus said to

Love each other

Many will have the same in remembrance

This night

Jews have a special supper sometimes near

This time

 

The importance of meals

As a bachelor, sometimes I don’t appreciate

The value

Of the family with friends or guests

Sharing food and drink

The nourishment from company

And if it’s too much, well, it’s always over

 

More things will happen later on

Jesus will be arrested,

Sent to trial and to torture

Those who ate with him will scatter

Except the women and two men,

One of them who’s steadfast,

The other man who at the fire says

He never knew the one

Taken away

 

So the greater hope is in the women

Watch what follows in the next few days

 

Let’s have this meal

Because and regardless of tradition

It’s important

That we dine together

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Sandro Gonzalez on Unsplash

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Holy Communion

 

Holey Week 5

 

3

Keeping Faith in Time

Keeping Faith in Time

 

Big days are coming

Liturgically speaking

For practitioners of child and

Parent faiths

Maybe today should have gone quietly

There’s daily service

To attend to

I don’t know how to make

Every day spiritually special

As one of those practitioners, I should

But weak flesh and sometimes

Unwilling spirit,

Which is to say I’m human

So are you

Not as an excuse for anything

While there are certain things, at large and internal,

To give in to

There are things we must keep trying for

Let this day found goodness

In the next one

And if we miss a step

Let’s remember certain rhythms

And their seasons

Allow for discord

(against the chord)

Without ruining the music

Might make it better

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Zachary Nelson on Unsplash

Bethel College, Mishawaka, United States

 

Holey Week 4

 

1

One More

One More

 

Some might say

Since we are ash

At the end, then

Let us burn now

 

They are wrong

Enough goes up

In flame, not the

Good kind, either

Not the sun

That through the

Ozone give us

Life, that lights up

The moon for our

Remembrance

 

The flame that

Takes, we understand

As Pogo says, this

Enemy is us

 

And yet the comic

Character is funny;

My dad read him

Later quoted him

Year in, year out

 

And he is right:

We know the enemy,

And it is funny

Laughter, sardonic,

Otherwise, does

Drive the devil

Mad, so much so

There’s a rule,

No jokes in hell

 

So breathe and

Do not breathe for

Burning—there

Is more water,

Sometimes with a

Kick, always more

Until the barkeep

Calls last call,

 

There having been

Enough, even if

We are left, human

Will in strange

Partnership with

Eternity, wanting

While we’re here

One more

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Chronis Yan on Unsplash

 

“We have met the enemy and he is us” is a parody of a message sent in 1813 from U.S. Navy Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry to Army General William Henry Harrison after his victory in the Battle of Lake Erie, stating, “We have met the enemy, and they are ours.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogo_(comic_strip)#%22We_have_met_the_enemy_and_he_is_us.%22

 

Holey Week 2

 

1

We’ll Burn the Palms for Next Year’s Ash

We’ll Burn the Palms for Next Year’s Ash

 

Today is Palm Sunday.  I recall this because I saw,

just now, an image with two pieces of wood, tied and

at an angle.  I suppose many are celebrating—feasting,

in fact, since it is the end of Lent—the way I am but

with honest hearts.

 

Lent is done, although the days of ash continue.  Nothing

new for planet Earth and the people of it.  What do we

know of ash but that it’s final in remembrance?

We might take the stuff and try to rework it, but what it means

remains the same.  We are of ash.  We’ve tasted it.

 

We try to contain it, though it’s mischievous in

blowing around.  Where does that wind come from?

“Dust in the wind.” “Turn, turn, turn.”  Every generation asks

the question, needs an answer, doesn’t get one.

There is ash.  It’s everywhere.  We think it’s dust, though we’ll never

clear it out.  We can’t.  As I say with all the singers,

 

it is us.  We are ash.

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Niklas Tidbury on Unsplash

This was a picture I took just for fun. One of those “that would look cool”-moments. I only realised the contrast between the new, fresh, ready-to-burn wood and the spent ashes of a campfire, like the wood was ready to meet its maker. Kinda sad actually.

 

This begins a week-long devotional, “Holey Week.”  The title is intentionally spelled.

 

6

Crazy Boy

Crazy Boy

(get cool)

 

Cattails

One word

Cat tails

Two words

When referring to the actual

Cat’s tail

Don’t pull at it

Cattails might not hit back

Cats with tails do

They should

 

That’s as much advice

As I have for you

My head hurts

And my nose

Yippee-allergens

I know they could be the other thing

I’m hot from moving things around

And I wish I had all my pills

In this uncertain time

 

There’s sun today

I hear the virus doesn’t like the sun

If it had preferences

But also doesn’t like cool weather

So my MidAtlantic spring might be

Salubrious for a time

 

Cool, sunny days?

I could wish them ‘round the world

For health’s sake

Light for buoyancy

Of skin and spirit

Enough cold, not too much,

To relax our ninety-eight degrees or so

Inside

 

C L Couch

 

 

recently, I read about the sun and about cold air in two different places where I think crazy people do not write or otherwise contribute

I am not a doctor and don’t play one on television

 

“Cool” by Leonard Bernstein

 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Fenton, United States

 

3

This Is Our Story

This Is Our Story

 

Finally, there’s wind

The static air can move at last

It could be a carrier

Or a cleansing thing

But with sunshine christening

We’re hopeful it’s the latter

We need good days

 

And how idle does that sound

Imagining the waiting rooms

The wards, the angled beds

All the suffering from symptoms

It is a ministry of comfort

Nothing more though that is great

For now

And perilous

 

The problem with the anodyne

Is that it’s ancient hope

And little more

There is no easy cure

And for now there is not an uneasy one

Our prayers and thoughts

Seem not enough

Not to mention less than nothing from

Ones who utter them through angry

Or indifferent mouths

 

Against instead the real need

Some liquid in a tube

Delivered by a needle, disassembling

The cohorts of the virus

Well, we can think and pray for this

And these

With others or the silence

Of our closets

Asking to bless

All workers who pursue the

Necessary, healing good

 

There seems little else to say

No other topic pressing

It is a time of plague

Optimism notwithstanding

On all our houses

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Tom Rumble on Unsplash

Melbourne, Australia

The light was fading as I was flying the Mavic back from another shoot and the symmetry of these streets caught my eye. Love me some long afternoon shadows.

 

10

And Can It Be

And Can It Be

 

And can it be

That on a day when the sun

Shines somewhere behind clouds

Basking indifferently above horizons

That the industrious

And inventive

Will find a way

So that, as she says,

All shall be well

 

The hazelnut she sees as the world

Will crack, the softness inside

Exuding into earth

To make the world anew

Two parts come together, then

 

Nature and ourselves

Nature and nature

We could be allies

We could protect each other

Let air

And ground,

Let blue and green,

Let wildness and cultivation be

 

Admit mistakes on all affected sides

Find solutions that

Don’t kill but use the planet well,

First things first

But never only

I wish it could be a simple song

But the harmony must be

Complex,

Composition worked out carefully

Remembering to consult

With the conductor

 

It is a vision

That can happen

She saw this

The touchstones matter

We can find our own

Use our words

Apply our talents well

So that all, as she ways,

Shall be well

 

And can it be

A healthy alliance with the cosmos

And productive

I believe you know

It must be

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay

 

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