Wishful
The moon is out there somewhere
Sailing ‘round the Earth
We are here, wishing we could go
Sign up for a lunar voyage
Take a chance among the stars
Maybe nothing
Maybe treasure
Worth it, we think
Earthbound
C L Couch
Visible and Invisible
The Lord sings,
and there’s a world.
The Spirit shimmers, and love
all inspires.
The Child touches one and then another,
and everything is better.
Healing and teaching,
death and resurrection.
There are other personages
in other stories.
I like well enough this tale of mine, which
comes from a people I must own. I am
content mostly to do so.
I want to learn more and more:
to hear the single notes
that rise into a melody
of sacred time
for sacred dance.
And everything is better.
C L Couch
CC BY-SA 2.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=125333
English: Coptic crosses in Philae Temple of Isis. Aswan, Egypt.
Français : Autel chrétien dans à l’intérieur du temple d’Isis à Philaé. Assouan, Égypte
Image taken by Gilles RENAULT
Two Children Die in Border Custody
Two children from another country
Died because they were in the USA
They didn’t break in; there was no crime
They were busy being children
This happened famously
How many are dying quietly
Security is one thing
Incompetent security another
Are the agents uncaring in their job
I do not know
But it’s the policymakers, our surrogates
And advocates, who show less
Wisdom based on no compassion
If it were your child
But it’s not
But if it were
But it would never be
Really, you never think the broad sweep
Of a killing blade might not reach
You or yours
Such randomness in civil violence
Such lack of specific concern
Will the impersonal never touch the personal
Are you not affected
Aren’t we all
If not for fear of something awful
Let’s turn to the cause of something really good
We say we like life
Let’s like it, then
Cherish it, protect it
Let it go when it’s time
In the ordinariness of the divine
Let’s not make tragedy
We say we like free will
Be that democracy
That has made tyrants weep
Despots weak
Bullies to give up the fight
Or lose any place work having
I’ve heard us say that we like children
That we care for health, safety
Education
Family
I sound like a poster, now
How about this one, I Want You
Or We Can Do It
C L Couch
Guatemalan boy, 8, dies in US custody on Christmas Eve – CNN
https://www.cnn.com/2018/12/25/us/guatemalan-boy-dies-in-us-custody/index.html 3 days ago … … Guatemalan boy has died in the custody of US Customs and Border … second Guatemalan child to die in the agency’s custody this month.
‘A Breaking Point’: Second Child’s Death Prompts New Procedures for …
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/26/us/felipe-alonzo-gomez-customs-border-patrol.html 2 days ago … “Moving forward, all children will receive a more thorough hands-on …. Jakelin Caal Maquin, a 7-year-old girl, died in Border Patrol custody …
note
The agencies that can help most personally and astutely will lose their funding in the current shutdown.
(image)
A “Rosie” working on the A-31 Vengeance bomber in Nashville, Tennessee (1943)
Alfred T. Palmer – This image is available from the United States Library of Congress‘s Prints and Photographs division under the digital ID fsac.1a35371.
Night and Day
I grind my teeth
But rhythmically
As if the radio in my head
Plays a hit parade
And my jaw drums along
Something to do
When on another boring walk
Along the lower campus
On a night that promised anything
But interesting
Now it happens in
The way that people talk about
That makes it a problem
In my sleep
I think it happens so hard that
I move my teeth around
There is an overbite, an underbite
A space that I did not have before
I guess that’s a problem
And I’m not awake
To enjoy the syncopation
As the beat, beat, beat
Promised in the big-band song
Or maybe something from a musical
Or the music that marshals characters
In an adventure film
What kind of protest
Do I not know about,
That my mouth must make
In subtext
Underneath the consciousness?
I should find out:
My goodness, life can be so strange
C L Couch
“Night and Day”
Cole Porter, songwriter
part of a creative coding project that can be downloaded
Perennial
I hope you have a really good day
I’m not sure, I imagine it’s
A special day somewhere
Someone is having an honored time
Something that’s been done before
And should be done again
Some might say we’ll get it right next time
Others not so worked up with perfection
Look at all the nothing we don’t have
But it sure is good
That we’ll all here together
Is that the meaning in the ritual?
We do it together
And in less formal time
We talk about it afterward
Until the next occasion it might, or must, happen
Again
And anew
It may sound an invitation to
All dullness
Even with some innovation
As things evolve
Sometimes it’s rechercher du temps perdu
But like an actor’s good performance
A freshness is deserved each time
Even stepping back
So that remembrance is sweet
And so are you
And so, for a change, am I
C L Couch
By Chenspec – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52413744
(“Sonnet 30,” William Shakespeare
À la Rechercher du Temps Perdu, Marcel Proust)
Second Day of Christmas
(Boxing Day)
Boxing Day
I heard it was British
And in a loosely associated way
Thought maybe it involved
Kangaroos, which
I had seen boxing in cartoons
I gather now
The boxes have to do with gifts
Since this is the day the British
Present each other with, well, presents
I guess for them it is as well
The second day of Christmas
Two turtledoves
I’m not sure when the Yule log is lit
Yesterday? The first? The sixth of January,
Twelfth Night?
The first day when it’s cold?
And mummers,
Strangely costumed people—
Who became carolers
Or was it the carolers who transformed?
I’ve seen the costumes
There is a parade in Philadelphia
Some are ridiculous
Some are the occult totemized
What’s going on?
These are my people
The English and the Irish
The Scots and the Welsh
They started coming here
In the fifteenth century
Through to a couple of generations ago
Did they want to get away from
All that? Or
Was it their own change
In what they knew to have?
I was a WASP
I am from Kentucky, Pennsylvania, and Ohio
With a brief adventure in
California
I am too old for young adventures now
Maybe one more expedition with
The older soldiers of Ulysses
By way of Tennyson
Maybe my gift today will be
A little understanding
Where I was
Who I am
Who might I be
As I am
For you
C L Couch
By Peretz Partensky from San Francisco, USA – White Doves at the Blue Mosque, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24568193
I hope it is a holiday of blessings for you, regardless of tradition or having no tradition. It’s a time when at least we speak to peace on Earth, which means more people think about it, if only in reaction. And reactive thought can realized in action.
I’m still dealing with new pain, and I hardly sleep at night (from old pain and the new). I’m sorry, this makes me less communicative than I’d so much like to be. I’m trying some new medication. Maybe that will provide enough amelioration.
I wish and pray for you a Merry Christmas, leading to the start of what will be a Happy New Year.
Christopher
Let Earth
(end of Advent, Christmas Eve or Christmas day, or, you know, anytime)
And where is joy?
It’s here
Depending on your mood
Or how you’re treated
How you treat someone else
You may not see it
The wrong ones will not pay attention
The ones who are wronged will
Because they must
It often goes this way
With wisdom to
Make a choice,
A pledge to difference
If you can,
In all moods choose joy
If you can’t, maybe joy will find you
If not, we’ll have to wait
Endure
‘Til there is allowance
And recourse
Sorry if that’s hollow
Everything cannot be fixed
In a day
A year
And not a moment
But where is joy?
It’s here
If within opacity like crystals in
The tube of a kaleidoscope
But made of a magic kind of gem that
Someday must crash through
Into release
A new promise of day
Without involvement of the persecutor
With unbound chances
To live openly and well
A day of birth
Such as this one
C L Couch
As We Are, No Other
(Christmas Eve, anytime)
This is a good surprise
We are invited to a dance
And we don’t have to know
Anything about steps or rhythm
Or the key of the orchestra
It’s a party, too
All we have to do to respond
Is see the card
In leaves or
Hear the invitation in the branches’
Song to sky
It’s for a birthday, yes
Don’t worry about timing
The child knows of better things
And will manage precision for you
We have this chance
Will it come again?
Yes, I think so
But we have it
Why not take part now?
Mister Dickens claimed
A few pounds make us happy
So Fezziwig will close the shop
And take the silent cost
In that
And pay for decorations, too
We might have to be our own accountants
White elephants might attend
(maybe black cats
zebras to negotiate)
There might be stone soup for supper
Served in lucky pots
Hey, but it’s a party
And if we own nothing
All the better for arriving
What do newborns have,
And how welcome are they?
It’s a party without consequences,
Because we will behave
Enjoying the relief of good, clean fun,
Everyone welcome
The birds will sing
If we don’t want to
And sing, anyway
Nature speaks in volumes
It’s miracle
We could provide the miracle in
Listening
Enjoy it all
Bring what you have
Or nothing
Remembering that at this kind of
Festival,
We are the gifts
C L Couch
note
White elephant is a metaphor from the USA and Britain, based on Asian custom (with real elephants).
All at Once Everywhere
(for Christmas day, anytime)
It’s a holiday everywhere
Except where it’s not
Sometimes in some places that
Is normal
Some places not so much
Where there is suffering
Where there is illness without comfort
Where there is nothing but alone
And, you know,
Christ came for these
An infant will grow up into infinity
We will treat him horribly
He will return, because he loves us
More than that
He is here
He is with us, now
And all the angels
With the saints
That’s us
C L Couch
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