Relegation

O God
Which is an invocation
We’re asking
You
Here and now

And are we aware
Of what we’re asking

No
Liturgically
Demanding
In
Your showing up

You’re God
And if so
The maker
And the real mover
Of
Well
Reality

All-knowing
So we say
And all powerful
Though
It’s easier
Secular
To believe invisible
And far away

That clockmaker
Having
Made and maybe
Set the clock
So long ago
Then left us to
Construct our own
Devices

Maybe
In our skill
Or lack thereof
To negotiate

Someday
To melt that primal clock
As
A Dali-like
Face-making
That is
Poured over parts
Of a parched Earth

But really
As we do things
(except
for invocation)
We could use you
Far away
And so keep our
Maybe fearing you
Also
Distant
And untested

In fact
Also
With cheek
Keeping your name
Inside our word-hoards
Available
For cursing
Or for sex
(is it
to bless the sex)

So
Such is irony
Such are
The ironies

And this is
Such
Strange wondering
As if to place you in a box
Maybe officially
To relegate you there
Until we need you
For
A ceremony
For
A clean and distanced blessing
Now and then

To complement in
Name
(whatever name)
Whatever ritual
We’ve made
Or
Somehow adapted from
The beginning
Words

So whom
Do we invoke
Just now

Whom do we ask
To call
And through our calling
Bring you here
In everything you are
And then
Even
To sing
To benedict
You
Away

Very God
Or distant God
Preeminent
Out of the way
Again
Then maybe
For an hour
Of the clock
Next
Time
Or maybe less

Then dare
We say
Amen

C L Couch


Photo by Visual Karsa on Unsplash