A Quieted Place
A quiet place
A song
A horror story
Someplace where we want to be
Sometimes
A park
The parking lot at the stadium
Night with lights outside
Inside with a candle
Or with nothing
But our senses
As they are
I carry the noise
You might
And so must have another
Point and counterpoint
To make a wash of sound
And give me (us) echoes of the sea
Or some such ambiance
For peace
C L Couch
Photo by Amanda Flavell on Unsplash
Empty Container at Your Door
I need something
Maybe you have it
Not a reason
I have reasons
Not a cup of sugar as
A metaphor
How about some spice?
Might you have
Oregano, bay leaf—
Or some mint leaves for
A julep or mojito?
Anything that might
Speak up of interest
Give the day some
Seasoning in either
Experiment or harmony
It’s in the words, I know
The texture on
The tongue and then
The taste
So that there is
An instant call to
Savor everything
Solid or liquid or
Flying through the air
Loose molecules
Like witches’ night
A moon-sailed sky
Fire circle then
Retreat to morning
Or spices like alchemy
Changing the substance of
The world
Adding some wealth
Unto those the
Crusted world deems
Undeserving
The surprise of a reaction
Ruining its surprise
With one of bright living
By those they wish
Forgotten
Some flavoring, please
Please make it real
Even for me
Especially for you
C L Couch
Photo by Cassidy Phillips on Unsplash
My friend is a ceramic artist and made this pitcher, which she is watering her herbs with. It’s beautiful to see art given a purpose.
Praying from Democracyland
Okay, God
You and me
Don’t you have
The poor end of the stick
I can rely on the other end
That’s you
I treat you as a friend
Sometimes as a phantom
Sometimes wish you down
Upon my enemies
With fire and menace
But then consider
Those for me
And cease
I have to
That is doctrine
Sigh (a real, stage, and
spiritual direction)
You are the source of power
Start of majesty,
I know
I treat you like a pal
I shouldn’t do that
But you are the source of love, more so
And I don’t know how to deal
In that,
Snubbing all formality
In wanting easy terms
For us
As a suggestion, let’s read your gospel
Much of that has clarity, I know
And honestly the fuzzy parts
Are interesting but not compelling
Either way
So I’ll rely on truth as
I can get it from
A reading and a prayer
You’ll be there,
I know
As in everything you started
The skies
The world
And me
Anyone who listens
Or does not listen
Who hears but does not hear
Sometimes like me,
Though now
This is about you
C L Couch
Photo by Cole Keister on Unsplash
Condensation and fresh raindrops against the window of our car during a trip to get donuts in Portland, Oregon.
Thank You Very Much
(a gratitude of winter)
I don’t have a winter home
No fireplace to sit by and
Wrap up
Wheel a television set close
By (before the wrapping)
To play an old, old movie
Maybe in black and white
(scandalous! I know)
To have a cup of something hot
A book close by for cheer—well,
These things I could arrange
(book and hot drink, even reading
glasses)
But how to have some company
To share the story of
The story and to
Talk of other things?
For the half I do not have,
I have a half of other things
Some of which might do
The book (and reading glasses)
I can heat up something
And I have the time, I believe,
For now
For what I have and what I don’t
And what you give me to believe,
For with some snow
And not too much (I hope, I ask)
And for all who are with me
Now and again,
I can say, only and best,
Thank you very much
C L Couch
This is inspired by a song in a family-favorite movie, Scrooge.
Lake Michigamme, United States
Our nights were filled with conversations by the fire, singing songs, and lots of laughs. It was a great way to unwind and grow together as a crew. See more about our team retreat on our blog. http://headway.io/blog/headway-winter-retreat-2018/
Inventing Peace
(in three small acts)
1
Peace comes from within
And also without
It’s an invention, a discovery
A state of mind
It’s an accomplishment
Takes years
Something always just ahead
Out of reach
Of mortal hands
Means
But we make it happen, yes?
It starts and ends with me
All right, maybe another
A small circle
Dedicated to agreement
But that’s it
We get a place of comfort
And we decide
We have it
2
And then the big barns of the wealthy
Look useless for God calling up
The builder before
Any more was put inside
Oh, so someone must be involved
That person
I should pray
And go to church, now and then
And give something to the poor
That taken care,
I’ll have earned
Beatitude
Well, no
In this dialogue with me
Since you’ve gotten me involved
Through invocation
I must tell you
Peace is not for you
It never was
What!
3
Peace is for the poor
Don’t worry, the poor can own many things
But they can’t be you
You disqualified yourself
Almost at birth
That can’s be
You’re not fair!
Not all the time, no
But I’m just
You’re human
You, your people, asked to have it so
And so it’s been
You live in will
That means you live with sin
Beneath the skin
Your parents might have done it for you
But you owned it, soon as possible
Oh,
Okay, I see
What do you want?
Much
But that’s another conversation
Call it prayer, call it confession
I’ll call it pardon
Repentance and then reconciliation
Look there, I’ve given it all away
You want peace?
Do that
C L Couch
Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
Sparrows on the Snow – pictures edited with my presets that you can find on my website in BIO
Patmos Day 10001
(Revelation 21 1)
I am here alone
Surrounded by the world
Or so it seems
The world tan and blue
The building bleached
In which I rest
Waiting for another vision
Testimony
That will not come
I fear
After all
I all learned about
The end of things
But there was so little said about
The new
Too brief
The new heaven and new
Earth
How they might be conveyed
For life in the eternal
I want to know
Not as if apocalypse were not enough
It burns the parts of me that
Sight things
Still
So I scratch on paper
When I can
A finger in the sand
When there is that
I wait
For them to come
The agents of the Savior
Telling me
In perfect love and fear
What to record
That might slip through the web
For all of you to hear
Theophilae
C L Couch
photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash
night sky over the church
A Game
There is a game
To play now and then
It’s called the future
Something blank is all that’s needed
Not even paper
An open book
Or tabletop will do
But keep it empty
Then place a thought inside
And then another
You will lose your way, and that’s all right
You’ve won by then!
Maybe play again
Or realize
Tomorrow
C L Couch
Photo by Wolfgang Rottmann on Unsplash
If God Then God, If Not
If God is good
Why is the world so bad?
This is not a child’s question
Only in simplicity
And it has taken faith from many
Over time
There will be some number today
There are two things, as is
God and the world
And while we eschew puppetry
We take it right in judging
God by what we do in freedom
Nature’s indifference
I can chalk up to a fallen world
That fell with us
Depravity a Calvinist discretion,
How widespread
(the narrator had it slice through Jupiter
Out of the Silent Planet)
So it’s the need to fall
The interest to
That is decided
Have faith because
The world is falling
Henny Penny, Chicken Little
All the birds that find they cannot fly
By nature or by nurture
(Chomsky, Skinner)
Or by how thick the sky
Has become
We are not the world
And we are
We take it with us
Into our decisions
Which is to say are we at the root of evil
More than the devil?
I don’t know
I cannot notebook hell
But we are pretty bad
And can be pretty good
And, if to be allowed
Either say or way,
Then discretion is not valor but
Needful as air
We don’t make heaven or of hell
But I think we can contribute
And each essence must matter
While we do
Come home to one or the other
The invitations must be that dire
Life must be that real
Real choices
We know
Real consequences
Choose faith
Sometimes in something
Or release it
Take something or walk on
Must be breathing as an option and
Have muscles
No excuses but our own
C L Couch
Photo by Paul Carroll on Unsplash
Jesus Tells a Joke to Make a Point
(brief Bible study, Matthew 7:3)
It’s a joke
A pun
The sawdust in the other’s eye
The log in one’s own
All seeing devices marred
There is no clarity
In judgment
Not without remorse for one’s own,
First
The log, however
Maybe Jesus is laughing, who
Would know how to do that
The log is so difficult to see
Around
Much less through
To start
Might all these wood parts
I wonder
Come from
The tree of good and evil?
If so
Or if not
The stakes are high
The sanctity of sanctity
The holy qualities we have
But might surrender
So much easier to find
(without clear sight)
The problems with another
And I’m confessing, too,
Which does not make me readier
For judgment
That is, to do it
Not yet
(I laugh a little, sigh),
No
C L Couch
Photo by Tim Schramm on Unsplash
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