Open Air
(a day for independence in the offing)
The wars go on
The war at home
Matters of manipulation
Clearly
We are way too comfortable
To bandy with the truth
Rather than considering the need
In each other
Then
Over there
Wherever there
We know
Might be
And if we don’t feel right
Inside/outside
And
What have you
We could always pause
Easing up
To take a breath that isn’t pressed upon
Free to assess
Who’s and what’s important
To find it isn’t politics
Pretenses toward power
But that the real
That isn’t on a screen
Or in an ad
Involves
Instead
A word
An act
Toward love
The smallest thing to do
To make a difference
Sometimes accumulative
A cascade formed
Like the surprise
To hear in water
Over rocks and such
Inside the forest where
Truth is kept
Inside the given
Green and blue
The authenticity in
Nature
Even though it claws
Sometimes
In truth
For protest
Of destruction
Life
Actual hurt
Real need
We can live for these
To answer these
With practicality and
This
Not politics
Or profit
Except
To serve
Rather
To call it love
C L Couch
(on 2 July)
Photo by Bri Tucker on Unsplash
(Holland, Michigan)
Theology for Anyone
Too many things
To think about
What is
Simply
Out there
Anymore
What might be simple
First
In here
And show the way
The poet
(I have mentioned this)
Taught me about the Amish
Person
Who was asked
Are you saved to heaven
To which
The faithful person said
I hope so
Not doubting so much
As to be humble
And to be prodded
All the time
To serve
And remember who is
Served
And what did
Jesus say
About the sheep
But
You may come in
For helping me
Because
I was the thirsty
And the naked
And the lonely
While you goats
(poor goats
for a metaphor)
Must stay outside
And go to
Frankly
An awful place
Or maybe
Nothing
Philosophically
Simply enough
Perhaps
That is
Live well
And for each other
And who is my neighbor
But
Anyone in
Need
While we have the means
And typically we have
To use
Help each other
Which I guess means
Take the help
As well
Simple enough
C L Couch
(Matthew 25:31–46)
Photo by Nandhu Kumar on Unsplash
help the goats, too
Sister Moon
(song by Francis, metaphor by Zeffirelli)
I cannot fathom Clare
Understand her depths
I do not have to
I’ll readily admit
She is beyond me
Companion to Francis except
Well, except it was boy and girl
(convicted young)
And in communities
Established one gender from the other,
I’m not sure how much
They could be together
Though I imagine them working
Side by side with nascent followers
And I want to think of them
Playing games as well
Between bouts
Of growing things
(vegetables and campaigns)
Washing the poor
Wishing the church into a better place
For service and to any
Could she have gone with him to meet the
Sultan as
A missionary team
In hardship, danger
Doctrinal snares
And opportunities as well
For the sultan (as was the pope)
Was powerful and smart
Well, too much is binary
I should not define one by the other
She was her own
She has it
Who chose to become God’s and his,
The moon in canticle
So sing to the sun
Brother, we are here
We dress the sky above the earth
In dreams
In daylight, we work hard
Harder than our flesh can bear
Than flesh can bear all orders of our calling
At night and for all times
All things
We pray
Be with me, brother, as at Mizpah
When we are apart
Consider the stars at night
I the clouds by day
We are in each other
Inside God’s creation
And the same calling,
The announcement of redemption
While working to save mortal lives
Upon the ground
C L Couch
Detail depicting Saint Clare from a fresco (c. 1320) by Simone Martini in the Lower basilica of San Francesco, Assisi
Simone Martini – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=154878
Allow Me
Let me introduce myself
I’m the one who’s on the other side
Of the story
No longer can I qualify the
Hero set on a horse
Questing for a sword with which
To win a realm of
Sparkling towers and one to be rescued
Inside
Who might instead
Rescue me
(I’m not that good at feints and lunges)
Maybe I could serve as a
Wizard (fine word from Arabic,
because the calling is exotic—would an Arab
ever find me exotic?)
I know little of enchantments
But when it comes to mistakes to
Learn someone against,
Yes, I’m there
It could be fun to mentor someone who could be
A monarch
Or a tailor or a teacher
Or a plumber or any child to
Grow up someday
I imagine, too,
It will break my heart
As all good teachers feel
With a loss
Or a win
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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