Well and Good
(ironic)
Oh
God
I haven’t thought
So much of you today
Weighed
Down
By my perceptions
The license that I give to stress
And even honest pain that
Doesn’t ask
For this
Forgive me
I guess
Though I’ll be doing it
Again
And
Venial or mortal
I typically can’t
Tell
So that confession
Is not a bust
Though I’m sure
A disappointment
Sigh
What shall I do
To be a servant and
Myself
To serve another
Too
And to serve you
I know
Which should be
First
Sigh again
This might be a loop
If not a cycle of
Post-Edenic rebellion
Which
We set up
As it were
At the start
But is my nature
Always enough
To explain
While I have will
As we always have discretion
Even difficult
In the moment
But I’m sorry
And I’ve thought of you
For seconds
Now
Such a big deal
And should I wake up
In my anchorite cell
Even with a car
For company
A holy cat
By its own calling
Once retrieved
The gray stone
With a specific symbol
On the wall
And a few pages
By the bed
Made out of
Nature
Meaning
Natural things
To know that I’m devout
And here to serve
The people of today
In a world
That maybe strives to rise
Or to wallow
Though I must
Keep the vision
For all of us
That may
Allow ourselves to rise
Maybe through the window
And the windowed world
I have
To look out on the other
To wait
For the inevitable
And then to wait
As in to serve
Responding to their need
And how they
How you
Say it
Then all should know
And you may know
At last
That I am with
All the time
By my own will
My time and style
Though here I am
For now
Small-town
Me for now
With all my errant loves
And wish
I could
Do better
Though for lack of djinn
And also resolution
Remains a wish
Among wishes
For faith
Or for a pony
(again
sorry
and amen)
C L Couch
Photo by José Alejandro Cuffia on Unsplash
(psst, we’re busting out of here tonight—my caption, sorry
and in part of the poem-prayer I’m channeling Saint Julian)
Water Works
I’ve written words
Here are some words
I need
More coffee
Be back soon
(soon-ish)
Back
With coffee
(rounded spoonful
thin rivulet
of count
to six for cream)
with some yogurt
Take a spoonful
Have a sip
Still missing ideas
Something
For you
For today
It is
A still day
To appreciate
Before the world’s noise
Returns
The last spoonful
And another sip
What shall I say
Beyond
Let’s have a day
And then another
Should apocalypse
Agree
Though I must
Say
I don’t spend hours
Worrying over this
And what happens next
For I don’t know
And neither
Do you
Which is a way
To say
Relax
Or at least
Worry over what there is
To worry
Over
Say
The health and joy in things
In the ones
We love especially
And the ones we pray for
Known
Or stranger
And more likely both
Maybe the message is
To pray
For there will be answers
And therein lay the risk
That when we ask
Or even state
There will be hearing
With response
Which might be a mystery
I don’t know
How it works
(you might)
Maybe we cry
Maybe
We stamp our feet for answers
That aren’t coming
On our terms
And there’s
The mystery
For there are answers
And why can’t
We always know them
Maybe best
To leave them in the air
Therein is faith
There in
And on the earth
And underneath
And in the ocean-depths
Is love
For us
(for each other
sourced
overall)
From God
Wash in all this
Clean in this
Our cleanliness ain’t perfect
But in what we may have
Be
Real good
C L Couch
. . .
Fishes and fowls
And beasts and birds
Swam the rivers and the seas,
Roamed the forests and the woods,
And split the air with their wings.
And God said: That's good!
James Weldon Johnson, “The Creation”
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
How Much God-Complaining Is Allowed
And how does God love us
Well
Perfectly
To start
But it’s so frustrating
Where is the fruit
That rightly comes
Each year
We have waited
Through the brown
And white
And green seasons
Now it’s gold
But you don’t offer
Anything like guarantees
Of harvesting
For faith
You even excoriate
The wealthy
And leaders
Over living well
And
Yes
On taking
Keeping
Hoarding
From the rest
Tossing the peeling
While
Chewing through the fruit
Okay
Maybe you don’t do that
But what do you do
What is promise
And the bounty
From believing
We can’t even see you
Hear you
Touch you
Taste you
And what is left
Smell you
Like incense
That we use divine
In churches
Rising up
As if you were there
To take the tendrils
As requests
While we hope
And choke
(sometimes)
For needful
Responses
Well and good
And not so good
We have to wait
We cannot see
Or hear
And all the rest
And yet you are perfect
Perfect love
Where is that
Please
We need it
(sorry)
Obviously
We’re hungry
We’re thirsty
We’re too much on our own
And where are you
But here somehow and
Please
Show up with parcels
Please
Of all we need
All we need assuage
All we need consume
For life
Even if
We have poor understanding
What that means
Which
Of course
Is why we ask for you
Please show up
I need you
God
Please show
C L Couch
Photo by Lin Leyu on Unsplash
Poor (not as in bad but as in not having) Prayer, Real Prayer—2 poem-prayers
Poor Prayer
Dear God
I’m too pent up
And that’s not healthy
I’m also poor
And could not buy my way
Out of anything
Or even have
The coat I want
Care for my feet
Or shoes
Though you gave me
What you gave me
And keep giving me
Though I’m uncertain
What that is
Not doubtful
But uncertain
For somehow
I know things
A few things
Anyway
But not enough
For sureness
As I breathe
And as I think
And as I move
At last
Into the day
I do understand
You give
With or without expectation
Or do I simply manage
Through the hours
As I may
As I can
With what I have
And like the other poor
With what I must say
I don’t have
Real Prayer
Sigh
What I’m blessed
I do not know
There’s the morning sun
Yellow on green
And branches
Is that
Are these
Gifting for me
Because I’m the only one
Looking out these panes
At this time
Or is there more
Or less
And how are we blessed
Anyway
Not through things
Through gilded anything
(I pause
to drink
and honestly
am grateful for the drink
against the times
that poverty
or sickness
kept coffee from
me)
Or property
That is the Earth’s
Though we believe we’re claimants
Well
The wealthy
Or the mortgage-ridden do
Or could
(I’m not sure
how much possessiveness
they feel)
So what is ours
And what are we blessed with
From your hand
And your say-so
Might we own
Pieces
Of a whole
Or simply lent them
And then leave them
Which seems
The wider lesson
From the form
That living takes
And then
What do you want us
To do
In this next hour
And day
And the life
As a campaign
But to do
Justice
Says your book
And to walk humbly
By the way
And what is that
Are these
Except we know a code
Delivered from a mountain
While we waited
By dancing
Before idols
Though we could
Dance for justice
And humility
I suppose
And do you think
Would you approve
And
Allow for our confusion
Our mistakes
Even our flaws
Until we get them right
Which might
Take all our mortality
Of energy and time
Though
As a God
You will stay with us
I suppose
Even a judge
Should have to watch
And listen
Before judging
Well
I know there’s love in there
Forfending errors
Allowing for the pardoning
Of sins
And moving on
With you
Further abstractly
Farther even physically
On Earth
And in the universe
We observe
And only push our pins
Into
So love us as we move
And when we’re still
Even remembering
Our virtues
Or our lack thereof for pardon
Then to set us on our way
Or leave us to it
As we may
And bidden
You’ll be with us
Ornery
Obstinate
Aggrieved
Trying again
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
(the thing about an archway is that you go through it—CLC)
formless supplication and God what shall I say to you but help like the Beatles I suppose or anyone inside a boat with water pooled and seeming to rise help and bring some rags and a life preserver the dry-land versions this time and I don’t know what that means and I hope that that’s all right praying for formless things nonetheless to assist because I know you’re not a genie and this is not a trick with a lamp or the words for what I want to get them right or be fooled in what I’m getting or not and I like the raven or the spider in the story but you are not a trickster though you allowed tricks upon yourself with a kind of king for a day and then the awful truth falling on you by the end in a darkened noisy afternoon I’m sorry I’m simply asking for your help and in the grace of it not knowing what that help should be and does it count lack of specificity and I think it might c l couch photo by Martin Brechtl on Unsplash
a dragon’s invitation to come out to play, plus there’s a prayer for Friday (any day)
Behind Me through the Window on a Rainy Day
I hear hissing
Outside
Tires on the wet street
No
A dragon
Skulking
Hunting
Hissing
Come out
Tiny humans
To play
I have some games
For you
Come up on my back
Between my wings
I’ll give you rides
Come out
I need breakfast
I mean
I need companionship
For play
You haven’t seen or heard
Such as me
Have you
Come closer
Then
Leave your chores
We’ll have fun
I know I will
And so should you
With me
Long and tall
And armored all
In green
Wouldn’t you like to touch
Come closer
Then
Come closer
Don’t mind the claws
Or teeth
Though you should
Look
Into my eyes
We’ll fly
And then return
No more than an hour
You trust the word
Of dragons
Don’t you
Then come out
Hey, There
(we say hey in Kentucky)
Hi
God
To be familiar
With the
Lord and majesty
Of all
But
Anyway
It’s Friday
How are you
I mean today
Is Friday
I think you know
My name
And I am wondering
(to pray)
If I could have
A dull and normal
Life
Just now
And for a while
For I could fill it on my own
With toys
Ideas
And things
And let the noise outside
Be mine
When I got out
To play
Or simply for a stretch
Because I really am
Working inside
This all takes hours
To do
And I could use the normal world
Suburban world
Dull world
To be itself for a while
So I could work
Create
In fact
To fill in all the spaces
That the boring leaves between
All normal acts
And spaces
And what about the wars
So far away
And outbreaks of disease
Where care is
Thin
And even water
Is a treasure
That is brokered
By the already wealthy
Or left ignored
Running thin
And questionable
In its own
Chemistry
While the war
I’m lucky
Must be somewhere else
I have not been shot
Though there have been
Carwrecks
To which the yelling world
Says
So what
Here
There is the wounding
And the dying
And the destruction
Of whole towns
That might as well
Slide into
The maw of hell
Where
They shall be living
Upon the surface
Of a desolate
A pitted
Earth
And there are other things
Such as
Nature going mad
And I’ve missed most of that
As well
Though in ‘96
There was that snowstorm
Closed the roads
For days
But I was inside
Where there was power
Food
Enough space to work
Even if the resting
Went uneasily
Until resumption of
An open world
For me
And mine
So I am lucky
How things miss me
How I was born
Into a quiet state
And have
Stayed that way
Through my life
Lucky
For the scars I have
From heart attacks
And other scares
All right
The trauma
Even the PTSD
Diagnosed
But still
My neighborhood
Is not entrenched
Except
For politics
While explosion are a
Matter of the traffic light
Outside
And the floods have not moved
Through
Except for hate of difference
Suspicion
Of our neighbors
That in this era
We do not reach out
So much
To know
And you live differently
And I hope well
And better
And could the world be better
If war and nature
Could be easy
Nonexistent
Even
Except for strategies
In rhetoric
Winning our arguments
Alone
C L Couch
Photo by Laith Abushaar on Unsplash
The Mystic, Ordinary Process
(for Evelyn Underhill)
Live the way I want
To
Which would mean
Living with you
With your nearness
With
Your love
And as a recipient of mine
Learning anew to pray
Into the world
For everything that’s wrong
And to keep
As in care for
Everything
That’s right
To practice confessing
Beyond
I’m sorry
To live out penance
Through listening
Responding to the world
And what is needed
Here
There is
So much to do
At Pooh Corner
Though contemplatives might say
The real action
As is said of many things
Is actually in the heart
And in the head
As vessels of the Spirit
Even launchpoints
For the Lord
To think
Canaveral about it all
Then to the world
To the rawness of it
To the terrors
And the grossness
And also
To the beauty
Of it all
This is
So strange
To say
And will you be with me
When my dignity’s
Surrendered
And I stand bloodied
Before
Ersatz courts
Places of injustice
Even fortresses
From which I know
Nothing
Of the entrance
Or the exit
My way through
Must be with you
Even if I’m on the way
To an earthly version
Of infernos
Not because
There is a heaven
On the other side of that
(I’m not that smart
to know)
But because I’m trying
(yes
I know
I’m trying
hah)
And you honor me enough
Bestowing companionship
Which is
I know
Enormous honor
So be with me simply
Because simple
Is all I really know
Not without art
Or an acknowledgement of grace
To have things
Understood as
Special
When things are barely moving
Or
Even in crisis
Something remarkable
(dare I say
amazing)
And when it’s quiet
And as
Such
The hour is
Still
And it’s
Simple
Easy
Once again
Plus there might be someone
And-or
It’s the two
Or three
Or four of us
And that’s a party
In which
Loving things are said
Loving games are played
And we discuss
The nature
And the aspects
And
Well
The now
Also into the future
Of everything
Foray into the past
When necessary
To keep the rest
I know
Real
But it’s now
And you are now
Help me
Forgive me
Stay with me
As I would be with you
Perfectly
But so imperfectly
For now
Until you teach me
In a place of
Frankly
Afterlife and grace
Thank you for faith
And even my response
As is
C L Couch
Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash
with or without a garden or an upper dining room
well
God
I’m here
and where are you
why
look
you’re here
you’ve always been
and it’s
so much
the patience to remain here
while I
prevaricate
to think a million
other things
as if
they matter more
and justify
the saddest
putting-off
for
my specific greetings
my confessions
petitions
for my needs
and needs
of others
more specific
and for the entire
world
and the whorls
of the cosmos
that need
you
out there
and I’m sure
more than
in here
in this hour
when I happen to awake
to find you here
or
in a
sleepy moment
to unlid
my eyes a little
see you
then and there
surprise
as well
always
a miracle
and I’m chagrined
to take up
your presence
and your time
the way
I do
not
to say I need a bell
or other
signal
from assemblies
(though
I like
bells
generally)
and shall you send
an angel
as an agent
for assistance
homely
and extraordinary
though it’s
especially
your Spirit
that is
needful
as a saving source
and guide
your word
you
as word
is needed
to get me there
and then
with you
and to remain
even
while here
for all my faults
and prevarications
but also
with broad hints
of there
(un-agnostically)
say
through the song says
after here
live
in your house
that follows
and is filled
with goodness and mercy
and is filled with
forever
c l couch
1Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. 4And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. 5Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?
John 14
https://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/John-14-2/
photo by Lucas Hoang on Unsplash
a moment in devotion
God
I love you
I can say it
into a quiet moment
in the hope
of food
reception
by an angel
who might convey the message
there
and then
something
returning
maybe the same words
or something else
an assignment
should I wish
to accept it
though the angels do not stutter
over approval
and then
to act it out
except for the third
that fell
or are falling now
while working wile
responding
to a campaign
and a plan
below it all
from the one
who’s fallen
and will keep falling
who cannot stop
on nothingness
the moment
of my love
maybe my fear
in how I’ve fallen
in a metaphor
for doctrine
though the fear
is real
enough
come save me
if you will
I cannot fall alone
for faith
or for an angel
you might send me
so I live
to say
and live
the love
with which you made
the Earth
and even chasms
with the landing place
the catching place
below
c l couch
photo by Vickey Goh on Unsplash
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