Like the Hammer at the Carnival
You know
In a pulmonary test
You are directed
To exhale then
Exhale some
More
Empty the lungs
As strongly
And as thoroughly
As you
Can
With then another round
And another of
The same
Not an exercise
In breathing
We should not breathe that way
But
It seems
To find out how strong we might be
And then again
Some guessing about strength
And then
Some
More
C L Couch
(with the thing at the carnival, you hit with all the strength you think you have and then must hit again with more)
Photo by Nhia Moua on Unsplash
Lent 31
I’m sorry
Just then, did I seem weaker?
I shouldn’t have,
Though I struggle with confession, too
I don’t know how good this is
Balm for the wounded soul, I guess
Maybe a strengthened bond
In the community
Necessary, I don’t know
For all the secrets that die with
Persons who left unspoken
Matters of regret,
Even tragic
I might do that
You might
It isn’t peril for our souls
Since all is known by
One who judges perfectly
We won’t escape a reckoning
Though there’s a bias in our favor
It is cleansing act,
I think
Not until the next time
But for all time
Technically, it’s preparation
For worship, life in spirit in
A fuller way
Open for distraction
Into heaven
I think I sang in dreams last night
In daytime, it takes practice
Rites partake in that
A life open to soulful beauty in
The music, as is said, of the spheres
But it can go ugly, too
Rough, tear-scoured
Anger exorcised against the
Truth and amelioration
As apology works its way
Through tears falling
One side or the other
(meaning inside or outside)
Confess
Forgive
Let sunlight be cleaved unto the darkness
Patchwork living
At its best
This side of things
All sides of things
C L Couch
by ‘Speculando – https://www.flickr.com/photos/lbarreto/2231876206/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3504753
Songpyeon, a variety of tteok, Korean rice cake
for Chuseok, celebration of the autumnal equinox
Masks
We talk a lot about that here
Which is good, I think—it must
Be an important theme
I’m not sure why I was talking
Yesterday with my brother
About Guy Fawkes
It’s a strange holiday from my
American look—you know,
“Remember the fifth of
November and such”—but
Then, I have “the eighteenth
Of April, in Seventy-five;/
Hardly a man is now alive”
(hardly)
Remembering, as we should,
That Revere had help from
Other riders, a man and a
Young woman
There—I’ve forgotten about
Masks, like the one on Guy
Fawkes (used in V is for
Vendetta), a definition of
Wry, sardonic looks broadcast
Throughout the realm
Carnivals (pick a nation) wear
Masks, as do some super-
Heroes and, well, bank
Robbers, too
Celebration (okay, maybe
Criminality), impression,
Second plastic skin, the
Need to turn away
But I think we mean the
Masks that hide our feelings,
Even our deeper thoughts—
Things that need concealment
And from which we fear
Exposure
Do you know who I am? a
Twenty-first century search
Finds sad response: a number
Of YouTubes (Do you know
Who I am? I’m entitled to
Road rage),
Well-known persons in the
Mind, at least, who have
Declared this in a gross
Way—and a book for women
(And, who knows, the book
Might be good)
But for the earnest question,
We don’t perceive the block,
Which is, we cannot ask
The question:
Masks inhibit the seeing of
Another and the hearing of
Oneself
It’s really a question that
Has beauty; now it needs
Strength
To ask and, on the way, taking
Down—relenting—of our
Masks, souls in disguise
clcouch123 
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