New Calling
(sci-fi)
She had quit the complex
A while ago
A lay sister
“Mother” to the order
And the last one
Left
She had found a robe
Left by someone
Who had doubted
And she took
It
Wrapped it around her frame
Tightened the rope from which
Knots dangled
Then
Began her wandering
She needed shelter
Now and then
Sometimes finding a cave
Or what was
Left
Of a town
Sometimes hunched behind
A piece of wall that stood
While around
Hot wind or cold wind
Depending on the mood of Earth
Blew by
There was food
Mostly she tried to find
In
Nature
But would go with preserved things
If she must
She was no
Diogenes
She had no lantern
Though now and then
There was
A flashlight
She could use while the charge
Held out
And then the tube was
Useless
Unless she should need an abnormal
Straw
Now and then
Which she didn’t
She could make fire
She wasn’t looking for
The honest man
Another
Woman
Maybe
Other sister
From an order like her own
Another refugee
From ancient sanctity
In modern
Costume
Though regarding habits
And pardoning the pun unto
Herself
She practiced
None
No daily prayer
No minding
Of the liturgies of the hours
That she had often
Missed
Anyway
Due to exigency while
Mothering
The abbey
And now
She chose to
Ignore such things become
Anachronistic in
A planetary
Moment
In terms of humans gone
Mostly
She blamed men
Women wouldn’t do this
She had concluded
She didn’t look for God
For God must be
Allowing
Having let the world
If the human part alone
Go so far as to
Ruin
Nearly everything
And remove all company
Meaning
Companionship
So far
C L Couch
Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash
notes
lay brothers and lay sisters could and can take over practical concerns within monastic communities, while maintaining faithful identities avowed of their own
“none” would be another pun, regarding prayers at hours
of course, this isn’t real and isn’t prophecy (the future-telling kind)—rather Happy Hallowe’en!
Earth out
last one here
before the last ship leaves
think about
turning off the lights
who knows
we could come back
or someone
to try the switch
light up our story
if only
a little
while it’s so hot and hard to breathe today
c l couch
photo by Piotr Gaertig on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Partly inspired by “There Will Come Soft Rains,” a chapter in The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. This part of the story speaks to what is left of us. The chapter’s sad. Nonetheless I often think upon it.
x
x
Sci-Fied
x
Should the bombs fall
And I am atomized
And you
And the insects shall find
Nourishment
Not through flesh
(I’m atomized
so are you)
But through bits of trash
I had not the time
To take our back
x
And shall the Earth survive
To have another age
x
I remember
In the days of Strontium
We said we could
Destroy the planet’s crust
And so leave
The molten mass
The could heave
Or be
Settled down
x
Nostalgia
For a future guess
x
The Earth might have
Its own
As it once held us
There could be bees
And flowers for the bees
Or something
For pollen
So that something could
Pollenate
And there be land
With flora
Feeding
And softening
What’s left of our platforms
For another age
Of Earth
x
Arthropodic
Or could it be with feathers
Things that move
And have their being
Avoiding shadows
Form which
There used to be
Something in charge
Though now
The lesson’s different
This time
The arthropods
And feathered things
Have sentience
And speak gospel
x
While the Earth
In its own way
We never got
Though it was there
Shall smile
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
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