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An Angel Visits Francis

(x = space)

x

x

An Angel Visits Francis

x

I speak to God today

God is quiet

Not uninvolved

With nothing noisy

To contribute

Beyond the rain outside

The singing tires

The occasional movement

Inside

From a neighbor

Or from me

x

I wonder when an angel

Visits Francis

How it goes

No, don’t get up

Relax the hand with the ring

No doubt you lift the office

With an instinct

Anymore

I’m here to rest with you

For a moment

To be still

You know the issues

And the crises in the world

One of us will tell you

When there are

Awful surprises

You are doing well

We are

I am

Sorry when you’re sick

The age and job

Do take it out of you

You could retire

Like your peer

Sometimes I think

He has the better part

But I don’t think you’ll give up

‘Til you have the sense

You’re done

Remember I am here

We are here

We fly around you

Dance with happiness

Or grief

You know we are not

The round things of the Renaissance

But are might beings

Wide in span

And awful

As in full of awe

To know us

And carry power

You know whose

And are ready

Should you wish us to defend

Evil forefend

Should you wish to rest with us around

And when you’re ready

To be escorted

Even carried

Home

x

We are will

And we love you

x

Back to me

And God is ready for your voice

When you wish to speak

Or keep it in your mind

The better things

Are in your heart

We’re told,

Which means your spirit

The spirit of the Lord

Is with you, too,

Waking or sleeping

Like the song

Agents of God

Angels and nature

Sing around you

Sometimes difficult

Impossible, it seems,

To hear

But singing nonetheless

The music of the spheres

The song that’s in your sphere

Of hope

And love

To resonate with good things

To navigate the bad

There is help

In that

In both

x

C L Couch

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Photo by gil on Unsplash

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Time and Again

(x = space)

x

x

Time and Again

(for J. R. R. T. in the birthday month)

x

Sometimes

We know it’s happening

Far away

By powerful people

National leaders

Soldiers with weapons firing

Or

A catastrophe

That has not befallen us

Specifically

And like parades

We know they and these are passing by

x

Sometimes it’s here

Still not for us

Our role might be

To observe

Or like the chorus

Comment on events

But this is not our stage

We are not the players

Not the principles,

At least

When there is news

We will know more

x

Sometimes it is our time

The light might be on us

Maybe not

But it is our time

The actions

And the consequences

Our place in the world

To secure

x

Perhaps I mean

The deaths of kings

(inclusive)

Then a fire in another part

Of town

Then maybe no more than

A birthday celebration

To have with grace

And thanks

x

Or maybe our time

Is more important

However to us

It seems

To the people

To the planet

To the cosmos

Believe me or not,

It could happen

x

It happened to the hobbit

Most of us are hobbits

Even without the provenance

Or wealth

(before the treasure is acquired)

Of Bagginses

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Look Up Look Down Photography on Unsplash

Hobbiton, Mata Mata, New Zealand

x

Prized

(x = space)

x

x

Prized

x

God’s will

I treat it like a puzzle

A mystery

A riddle

x

The prize

For being smart enough

For endurance

For cleverness I don’t really possess

Is success and later on

Salvation

I win at last

x

Except I think, liturgically,

That the truth is not in me

Or anyone who thinks and contrives

Philosophy this way

x

God is not a puzzle

(I like puzzles

and I hope you do)

There is a clarity

Like the still waters

God takes us beside

Willing

To point out the deep parts

x

Skywriting isn’t necessary

(relief for Dorothy)

Read the code for life inside the books

Or listen

Listen, anyway

It’s easy

As it’s easy

x

There are commandments

There are two prioritized

There is a parable of sheep and goats

(poor goats)

x

These are enough

To take us through the day

A season

A life

And should we like to choose

Life after

x

Mysticism, symbolism

Are for other verses

So to coin a phrase

That serves the here and now

x

That’s all, folks

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by dylan nolte on Unsplash

x

Pilotless Wheel

(x = space)

x

x

Pilotless Wheel

x

God is great

Traditions affirm

Many of them

Most of the living world

And the world before

x

God is good

A source of mercy

Even for

Those who do not know

Those who deny

Given space and time

Mercy in these

x

But, God, what kind of

Rotten world governed?

There is beauty

There are delightful moments

There is too much injustice

Too much lack of protection

Too much destruction

In the name

For the cause

Of politics and profit

x

You are in charge

We are

It is a war itself

Of wills

We think that you arranged this

We believe

x

In this alliance is

The cause of misery

Of evil

The stakes are high

They must be

This is real

Everything must matter

Assignments

Consequences

The religious call them covenants

And so they are

x

Sometimes the wheel is left alone

Sometimes there’s a grab for it

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Maximilian Weisbecker on Unsplash

x

the blast of war

(x = space)

x

x

the blast of war

x

God

grant not my will

but yours

yours and mind when

we’re allied

but if it’s you or me

better to be you

and yours

I know

I’ll be there, too

that sometimes frustrates

when I want something

all my own

and maybe

you would not agree

all the way

better for your will be done

and mine left out

you’ll remember me

and several billion

while caretaking

all who are asleep

a world that’s cracking

you will let it crack

split into pieces

that we insist upon

who says

my will be done?

yours will keep the planet

and humanity

behold what

our will has done

and save us

by your modest will

gentle

or ferocious

x

the quiet desert

and the storm at sea

are yours

watch over these

and the tame or wild places

of the mind

the heart

and spirit

we should ally

keep us from all tyrannies

with a will

for freedom

x

c l couch

x

x

photo by jonathan bowers on unsplash

x

Qwerty

(x = space)

x

x

Qwerty

(minus w, minus t)

x

What do you want of me,

God?

Maybe the next hour

Or tomorrow

Or the moment

That is the only thing

I know for sure

There is

And now the next one

x

What is your will

And should I ask?

Maybe I don’t need to

Maybe knowing is for

Greater ones

Than I

The ones for histories

Who rated visions

The certainly

Of steps to take

x

I muddle

And you, reading,

Muddle like me

If you’re like me

Maybe it’s easy

There is an easy need

For something

And we move

We save considerations

For contemplation

Conversations

That may never happen

x

If a bomb

Should crash this wall

If should be in bed

Because of illness

Then all there is to think about

If thought is clear

Is to survive the time

Allowed

Against sadnesses

Even the world’s evil

x

Hunger

Should affect me thus

Or thirst for something safe

Or doubt for faith

Should that be the exchange

For everything vile

That may come upon me

Come upon us

x

Since, actually,

I might be moved with

Greater intensity

Should it happen to you

x

I shall believe

And ask

Even as confidence fades

That I shall ever know

That you shall ever tell me

What would please you

What would serve you

Not in an epic

But small verses

That could

Make

At least delineate

A life

x

C L Couch

while I’m typing

x

x

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

x

Split Light

(x = space)

x

x

Split Light

x

Lord,

What if I had gone

The way that you had chosen

The way that you had shown me

From the start?

I can’t chalk up misdirection

To youthful energy

Or ignorance at any age

Or indiscretion

As a peccadillo

I was wrong

That’s it

Except the thing is, Lord,

I was told by other people

People with agendas

Before I understood my own

I think when we were quiet

We got along just fine

And I was learning something

Of your way

But there were intrusions

With everything awry

I lost my way

With you

With everything

I didn’t know what or whom

To count on

Or to latch onto

I tried to lead myself alone

Well, you know how that goes

So I am here

All the distractions are the same

I’m not that much different, either

Sometimes I can hear you calling

Call to me, now

With pardon

Even with revelation

Speak through my broken hearing

Tell me

I will try to listen

Break through the sullenness,

The perspective problem of the child

Yet with a child’s bearing

I may hear

Then follow through

In an awkward, side-stepped way

Made out of mistrust

This time

Lamed somewhat by the world,

Which I’ll take

As my fault

For having gone in, first

With willfulness

Break will, too,

Without breaking me

Reknit into something straight

With my permission

And my consultation

Let new will prevail

With a team of mates

Upon the ship

Sailing not to glory

But to glory’s home

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Bruno Thethe on Unsplash

x

Own

(x = space)

x

x

Own

x

So, Lord,

What shall we have

Today?

We shall have burnt toast,

It seems,

My fault

The coffee is all right

Except now the

Button doesn’t work

That turns if on and off,

The last

Of many things, I think,

That say it’s

Time for another

Will you lead me to another

Coffeemaker, Lord?

Or have an angel do that,

Please?

So small

And there are many things

So much larger

(the ocean is so large,

and my boat is so small)

But things push

The economy, I suppose,

And angels

Are your agents

x

There are clouds

There might be rain,

Perhaps a storm

This is your day

Because you made it

This is my day

Because my choices

Matter in it

Because of will

And degrees of determination,

This day belongs

To all of us

I wonder how we’ll own it

I wonder what we’ll do

x

C L Couch

x

x

Stormy Stornoway

Photo by Lachlan Gowen on Unsplash

Stornoway, United Kingdom

x

Fixing Morning

Fixing Morning

 

Lord,

I don’t know what

To say or do

Thank goodness for the

Autonomic processes

I sit here, tempting frozenness

Fruit of depression

And anxiety, I know

Though like gout,

It could be an exigent bout

With indecision

 

But decision-making requires

Quantities,

And I have none

Feeling beaten around by

The world, because I have been

What is left?

 

Then I look outside:

It is a pale scene

Morning light-blue, yellow light

Upon some branches

Other branches in the shade

Though the leaves are waving green

As if to signal spring, perhaps

Officially some weeks away

 

While, I’m sorry for ingratitude,

I tend to savor

Seasons as they come, anymore

(dreading the extremes—

why did you make these?)

So a sign of spring is fine

Even a comfort (thank you) but

Not a pressing need

I tend to love even when they’re difficult

All times I have

 

So if this pastiche outside

That only I behold has been

(and maybe not)

Arranged at all for me,

It might be an invitation

You know (I know you know),

To sit up,

Eat the toast,

Finish the coffee,

And move on

 

It looks to be a lovely day outside

And if I leave the noise inside

I’m sure I will hear birdsong

So much better

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Austrian National Library on Unsplash

 

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