nostro papà
(as from one faithful)
papa
we welcome you
we hope you will address
the things
that wound our church
peace
be with you
and we shall pray for you
as you ask and will
you
pray for us
and we think you
will
things need changing
and
things need to remain the same
how do we
both
and yet we must
we are ancient church and
modern
too
how to be both
well
there’s much to do
be safe
be love as
Jesus says
as we should love our neighbors
too
may
all the sins be cleansed
as only God might
clean
and may good and true
believing
and the living
take over as we
love God and we love you
hear us
please
please lead the church
with hearing
along with pronouncing where
(and
what)
there’s need and so
we pray for you
yes
we do
go with God
maybe
God
with all of us
c l couch
remembering Francis
photo by Onur Binay on Unsplash
amigo ausente
well
I’m sorry
I know I should be glad
that he’s in heaven
now
but I liked him
liked his presence
even in
the way-distant way I knew it
knew him
I like
the name he chose
I like the way he tried
I don’t like the way
that we heard
and he looked ill
and now
that’s not a problem
but I liked his look
of love on Earth
and now
we won’t have
save in pictures and maybe
in the same wide way
a new one
new papa
I wish I could have visited
and heard him chat with friends
(are
popes allowed
to have
friends)
to have heard the Spanish
easy on his lips like home
heard an easy laugh
from him
at something
a friend without expectations
might have said
c l couch
photo by Fr. Daniel Ciucci on Unsplash
Saint Peter on a Sunday Afternoon
The Shoes of the Fisherman
Is on TV
I doubt I can help but watch
An old film, yes
I imagine too stodgy and too staid
For a reboot
I’m relieved
I should read the novel
But the movie engages viscerally
As sometimes movies do engage us
And we with them
A pope is elected
Cyril, first from Russia
In the Cold War
And for all time
As I understand the story
Cyril came to Russia with Methodius
Wanting eagerly to share the Gospel story
And found
So many tribes at war
First, then, they imposed a language
So that all might speak and
Might be heard
Cyrillic
Sounds mythical,
I know
For our time, an allegory
Rome is eternal, so they say
And the Vatican seems that way as well
I wonder
The church is not the pope
It is the people
This is not new teaching
A billion people
I could be one of them
C L Couch
My Own Valentine
(prose poem)
My own little Valentine celebration. I guess we celebrate feast days, though these are the days in which the saints have died. Martyrdom—we celebrate? Well, I bought little round pink plates with small square napkins to match. I am drinking coffee with little croissants on one of those pink plates, dabbing with a small square napkin. Watching the pope visit Mexico.
Where is love? Is it there? Is it here? Is it intertwined through both places and all other places? And the people? Are we bound in red silken ties of love? Free to move yet tied so that, when we might fall, others are there gently (remember, silk) to pull us up and on.
Quizás.
Goodness, the president of Mexico is good-looking. He speaks of “a better community” (translated), “a better society.” A better world, I imagine. Why not? Here’s a chance to speak of objectives and ideals in a country toward which too many look askance.
Quizás.
clcouch123 
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