Author Archives: Jennifer

My Poems Speak to the Living and the Dead, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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My Poems Speak to the Living and the Dead

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

My poems speak

To the living

And the dead.

Spirits lingering nearby

Hear my words

And start dancing;

Ghosts feel them blow thru

Like calming winds

Or billowing storms

Depending on how tethered

To place they are.

Spirits send out resonances

To meet these resonances

Even if they’re read in your head—

After all, skulls and skin

Are no barrier to spirits

Longing to be influenced and

To influence.  My poems

 

Speak to streams of time,

Carrying ships bearing autumn trees,

My poems speak to the clouds

Who carry them across the sea,

My poems speak to roots and wings

And burrow like cicada nymphs

Only to rise up fully mature-winged-voice-throwers,

My poems speak to the rivers,

Polishing rocks and stones, and smoothing over

Fallen trees, my poems

Caress the legs of frogs and kiss the lips of deer,

My poems speak to the souls

Of infants and elders, my poems

Speak to the living and the dead.

 

Take

A moment,

Hold it loosely, much like

A hummingbird holds its hovering

Over the trumpet flower,

And speak these words,

Speak your words,

And set your whole being

And everything around you

Thrumming, like

A chord

Of joy.

 

 

 


 

 

 




 

Touching Souls, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Touching Souls

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Wherever you are

Stop reading these words in your head for a moment

And speak them out loud.

 

Say, “wind,” and, “breath,” and, “spirit.”

 

Know this:

 

Breath carries sounds of words,

Wind carries them even further,

And all of it all borne on wings of spirit.

 

Put another way:

 

Words travel, like wind

Becoming us, like breath

Enlivening us, like spirit

Sharing us because.

 

Try these:

 

“Listen,”

Try, “lemonade,”

Try, “wish.”

 

Resonances come whether or not anyone

Repeats them out loud after you;

Faces lift and brighten,

Steps slow and lighten,

Some look up frightened.

 

Know this:

 

You touched souls

With the kind of inner refreshment

That only living wind and spirit feathers can bring,

You brought ideas, held in sound, held in life,

And the world will never be the same,

And neither

Will you.

 

 

 


 

 

 




There Are No Wrong Turns, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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No Wrong Turns

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

There are no wrong turns.

Each and every time you have been lost

You have eventually found your way out;

It is the same with journeying inside.

Walls appear when moments before

There were none,

Dead ends rise up like tombstones when you

Least expect them to,

Passageways narrow suddenly, and fall off

Into deep ravines,

But here you are, reading this—and this

Is hope on a string of words;

Take them or leave them, the fact remains

You are reading them, hearing them

Now

Here

Now

Safe

Now

Without guardrails

And you are still not falling.

I get it, don’t worry.  I am lost

Much of the time myself, I hardly ever know

Where the road is going—if it indeed goes anywhere.

Somedays I look down the road

And only mist, or mist-infused darkness loom;

Somedays the road ahead looks more like a movie screen

Of the past than a road, and somedays,

I even begin walking or exploring the edges

Only to pull myself upright at the slightest sound

And go back to where I was, and sometimes,

Even that place—the back where I was place—

Is gone; and sometimes, and, oh, I feel terrible

For saying this—but sometimes the road

Is so utterly lonely, even though it is inhabited

By many fine souls—living, dead, in between—

And there are fireflies, and stars, rivers, and buttercups,

And there is singing and crickets, and always, the moon;

Let’s face it though—the road can be hard,

And gravel gets in your shoes,

And the desire arises more often than you would like to admit

To simply roll up into a ball and dissolve into even more nothing

Than you sometimes already feel—

And yet, it is the only road you need,

And no matter where you let it take you, or how far you go,

Or how slowly you go, there are still no wrong turns.

 

 

 

 


 




Nursing the Dark, Eating the Light, a Fable, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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Nursing the Dark, Eating the Light

A Fable

by

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

One day, an acorn and a cicada nymph were talking underground, when a beam of light suddenly appeared shining down on the acorn.

“What is that?” asked the acorn.

“It’s light,” said the cicada.

“Why is it tugging at me?”

“That’s what light does.”

“What if I don’t want to move?”

“Dunno,” said the cicada, “I’ve been under here for 17 years. I like the dark.”

“I haven’t been under here for nearly as long,” said the acorn, “but it sure is comfortable.”

“And cool,” said the cicada, “and snug, and yeah, so cool—wonderfully cool.”

“What do I do?” asked the acorn.

“About what?”

“The pull.  I mean, my heart feels like it’s breaking, and something inside wants out.”

“Go with it,” said the cicada. “So part of you moves into the light? Your roots will always be in darkness.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” Said the cicada, “Well, when the light draws me out, and I climb a tree and wait for my wings to spill out, then my roots will be in the sky.”

“Should I try to fight the light?” asked the acorn.

“Good luck,” said the cicada. “Funny thing is, once during late summer, you fell to the ground and the darkness pulled you under and you loved it. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t resist. I heard you sinking down. You were weeping and laughing all at the same time because it was so nourishing and safe-feeling to be under here. Now you want to fight the light. Try this, just try breathing in the light, and see what happens.”

The acorn did as the cicada suggested and she suddenly felt the light breathing her and she found herself unfurling into the bright, blue sky, and the light–she was eating the light.

“There ya go,” said the cicada.

“Aren’t you coming?” asked the acorn as she turned away.

“When I have suckled the roots of the mother tree long enough,” said the cicada, “then I will come. For now I am still nursing the dark.”

 

 

 


 

 

 


As of the posting of this story, I am still unemployed and without an income.  Please help if you can.  All my love, Radiance

Do Yourself a Favor, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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Do Yourself a Favor

By

Radiance Angelina Petro


Do yourself a favor:

Wake up

Someday,

And lie by the window

From about 4 AM

Thru full sunrise.

 

Notice, watch, experience

How light comes.

How it washes over you so almost

Imperceptibly

Slowly,

And washes away the darkness

Absorbing it into itself, or simply

Taking its place.

 

Go ahead.  Be there here.

Do yourself

A favor

And watch the light

Become you

And you

Becoming the light.

 

As you do

You begin

Taking form, shape,

And shadows are revealed,

And edges, and open spaces,

And your favorite things,

And an indescribable delicacy

And sweetness comes,

Sits with you, lies with you, crawls

Right up next to you, and purrs.

 

Little by little

It touches everything,

Blesses everything,

And your eyes will adjust to seeing,

And you will be so grateful for the windows

In your life—

The clear ones

Letting in the light.

 

It will not force itself in

And yet it cannot be stopped.

It just needs

(and really, doesn’t even need—it wants)

To be

Received,

Or, at very least,

Surrendered to

Eventually,

And it likes to be received

In praise, or, at very least,

In wonder.

 

Not because it needs praise

But because it knows

You need to be praising,

For that is

What it’s doing here now

With you.

It

Is praising

You.

 

And

If you are not careful, and

Carefree,

Once the light

Establishes itself fully,

And the dawn, the morning

Comes fully,

You might be tempted

To cover your head

With the pillow

And regret doing this silly exercise,

Because now

You have to go to work soon,

And now

You will need extra coffee.

 

Just remember—

Through (out) the day–

You were just revealed

In light,

Bathed in light,

Kissed, blessed, washed,

Manifested, assembled, formed,

And loved

In with by light.

You were shown

Who and what you are

And how things will happen

On the last day,

And what it means

To be baptized

In spirit and truth.

 

And if you close your eyes while this is happening,

And just for a second drift back to sleep,

And then catch yourself awake again,

And open up your eyes again,

You will see

(Again and again)

That those few precious few seconds

Of your own self-induced darkness

Disappear

And you notice then even more now then

That more light is with you,

And smiling

New horizons

 Into you,

Into your room,

Into your mind,

And of course, it is OK, and necessary

To blink, and to rub

Your eyes, and to sleep

Just remember to do yourself a favor

Someday

Someday soon now

Why not today now?

Wake up

And lie there

As light comes to get to know you,

And

After being with

The light—

Rise, if you can,

Stretch, if you can,

Reach, if you can—-be, if you can

A trembling flower steady trembling flower fresh

In the morning glory joy dancing trembling,

And then, if you can, smile back

At the light trembling in dance to see

You.

 

Then pause.

 

Inhale the light

Right

Into you.

 

No, it will not burn—

It isn’t that kind of light—

This is light you can breathe

And is as soft as the air itself,

And that has a name—it is called

Here I Am Here We Are Here and Now We Are There Here,

And it will whisper through you, singing ever

So softly until it becomes you

Becoming

The sea

Becoming yourself

Out loud

 

Saying:

Explore—step off into your life—

Make waves, dismiss limits

Of shore and time–

You are being received,

Ushered in,

Guided by,

Encouraged by,

Enjoyed by

Light—

Light that is now

Here fully

With you, naked, exposed,

Beyond being vulnerable—

It is ready, willing, and

Able

To give itself

To you

And to take you

If you want you,

And to lift you

Lift your feet,

Kiss open your eyes fully

To see

And to kiss your mouth

To speak only clarity,

And to sing your heart mind awake,

And so then you will speak words and conversations

Of light,

And your songs

Will be light and of giving thanks light,

And you will become so onewith-in being

The light—

You yourself the I Am—

That everywhere you go

You will become a living morning,

A walking sea,

A dancing, singing sun,

A bringer of possibilities,

That you will not cannot need to own—just bestow

At the feet of the world only

To then keep going,

Touching

Everything,

Spilling gifts

Everywhere,

Being a gift yourself

Everywhere spilling,

Kissing everything around you

Awake

And into

Now here and

I Am here we are here

In and of and why here,

And yes, and see, and know, and you and

I and all of us

Moveable

Roots

Growing

Up and down

In love soil

Sky soil

Earth of heaven and heaven of earth soil,

And we will take one another’s hands like

Promenading trees,

And lift one another from the table,

Closing laptops,

Putting away phones,

And we will dance

And we will spin

Into more dancing,

More shores,

More earth

More heaven earth

More earth heaven

More sea

More dancing in the sea dancing

Roots singing too with branches swaying,

And we will wave,

And we will dance

Some more,

Leaping into one another’s arms like lovers, like

Sea shore sky lovers–

So grateful

To see one another again,

And we will never maybe ever

Touch again on this earth

And yet once

We part

More light forms

Between us and we laugh and we weep

And we sing and we know and we sing and we dance some more—

We see we laugh we grow we know some more,

And cannot help

But rejoice some more

And go around

Embracing everything

And everyone some more

With the presence of here and now

And more

I Am we are here now there here now there—

Here—

See?

Isn’t it wonderful?

You know it is,

And it’s OK to say so

While you sit back down,

Sipping your coffee, getting back to work,

Checking emails, texting emoji’s, putting on

Sunglasses and going off into your world—

It’s alright—

There is light

In your briefcase, your pockets, your cup

Of coffee, your thrumming touched and blessed holy infant

Head and heart and toes and it is so glad

You came and took a moment

As it was given

And shared it with your day, your plan,

And any weariness you may have

In your arms and legs or heart—

You were you are willing

To carry exchange light—

The light you are here now I Am with you light.

 

The light, we are here now

The light I Am we are

And so

And so

We sew

Light

With invisible visible threads

And golden needles

Soft as baby-hair,

Never

Ever

For a second

Trapping—

Only

Freeing

Opening

Wanting

 Letting

You

Step out

And into

Yourself,

Your day, your world,

And back

Into the self

Of another

Where you see

Light becoming light

And being light yourself

You smile,

Sip your coffee,

Sip each other, sip the light,

And be now here I Am

 We are now there here now.

 

And then skip a little, lift off the ground a little

In ever so slightly

Little lifts and skips

And leap a little, skip

A beat

And make

New dancing a little more

With every oceanic step and little river

Step and little drop of water step

And sweat upon your breast step, and dew upon the dew step,

And feel light

Lifting your feet

Without effort

Without force—

Just lifting—

And you

Will be born

Into your own life—

 

Therewith everyone else

Being born into theirs

As morning

 

You become sun

You become who

You become what

You become ever-

Here

There

We

Are

Were

Here

Now and

I Am you are I Am you are we are

Here we are there here we are

Here

Now

Here

Then

Here

We are

Us

Individually

Indivisibly

Us

Singing

Being sea being sky being light

Skipping

A way

And a new revelation

Begins with and

Is with

Is of with

Is of now with

In of in gratitude with

Us

For the way’s revelation of the way

The road

 The path

The horizon

That is simply

More light

That can’t wait, but tries to wait, yet cannot wait,

To be with you here now forever we are

I Am there here and now

We are together always

 

Forever

Blessed and cresting

Ebbing pausing moving touching everything

And being touched by shore

By sky by sea

By shell by stone by swirls

By castles by whole bodies

Being born again

Here now I Am we are herewith

Each other blooming again here now

There now

Ever now

In each other

Together ever

Now and

With the dawn.


flower wow



 

 

And please, if you would, I am still without an income and soon to be without a place to live.  Any donations you give will help enormously at this time.  Thank you.  All my love, Radiance <3


The Next Neighborhood Over, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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The Next Neighborhood Over

By

Radiance Angelina Petro


Trying to follow the sound

Of the cicadas is what it’s like

Trying to follow the sound

Of god.

 

Cicadas throw their voices

And you can think one

Is right up in that tree over there,

When, in fact, it is actually

In a tree in the next neighborhood over.

 

Trying to trace the sound

Of god one finds oneself

Tracing figures in the air,

Or wishes on the shore.

 

 

Listening to the sound

Of god is much easier

Than asking the source

Of that sound questions.

 

When the cicada stops singing

And falls unseen

From its branch high up

In the tree, the silence

Signals us that change is here—

 

We realize waiting for answers

Is foolish and a waste–

Autumn is coming.

 

So we had better be prepared.

 

When we notice

There is no singing in the trees,

When we realize we have forgotten

Entirely about the sound—

We know winter is here.

 

And if we don’t do something

Outlandish and daring

In order to try making the sound

Ourselves,

Our ears will freeze over with regret,

Our hearts will harden from lack of use.

And our dreams—the ones

We used to use as compasses

To follow the sound

Of god, will be carried away, like

The shell of a cicada,

Like the shell of a sound,

Like the shell of a god

That used to play

Hide and seek with us

From the next neighborhood over.



 

 




Thank you for supporting my transition.  Radiance <3

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Radiance Reporting, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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Radiance Reporting

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

************************************************

The thoughts contained in this poem

are a small part of what goes on in my head on a daily basis.

Thank you for reading.

**************************************************

On the days I take off from shaving

I think:

Ahhh, that feels

Good to not do.

And then I think:

Shit, this messes with which

Bathroom I go in if I leave the house.

I look less traditionally

Fem, and so, I probably can’t

Safely use the ladies room (my rightful restroom).

I better wear androgynous clothes

So I can use the men’s room—

I can go in there with a scruffy face and jeans,

And if I wanted to, hell

I could pee standing up (I can still do that, you know).

 Me unshaven nonbinary




Please donate to my transition.  Thank you, Radiance <3

I Want You to Know, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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me again again

 

 

I Want You to Know

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.                       ——Second Timothy 1:7

 

 

I want you to know

I believe in spirits.

I don’t believe there is some god

Sitting around somewhere doling out spirits—of any kind.

Spirits are not things to be given

Or taken.

Spirits do the giving (and yes, the taking).

Spirits move and live and have

Their being in, around, above, below, and through

Us.  They travel looking for places

To stay—sometimes forever, other times

They just want to stop by, check out

How things are going, and then move on.

Other times they come to stay awhile

And live in your hostel mind.

Most are pretty unassuming and quiet,

Whispering only now and again

Via the wind in the trees above your head

Or in some other such manner.

Other times they can be a bit testy,

Especially when you hook one

With your emotions.

Then they can become like angry fish

And do their best to snap your line.

And yes, there are ones that mean you harm.

The main thing I want you to know though is this:

I believe in spirits.

It is important to me

That you know that.

Keep in mind:  spirits

Are not ghosts.

Spirits are spirits.

Ghosts are ghosts.

Spirits wander freely.

Ghosts stay stuck in one place, screaming

Or weeping, or running up and down the hallway,

Sometimes they sit behind chairs or in walls laughing—but not

Easy laughing—more like trapped, misunderstood laughing—

The kind one might hear in an asylum.

Spirits are not angels either.

Angels are angels.

Spirits are spirits.

Several of them (spirits)

Live in me.  I used to think

There were just two—a male and a female.

Now I know my soul and body and mind

Are a city of spirits.  Sometimes

Things thin out a bit and I am more

A house of spirits, or a garden of spirits—

Like I said though—the main thing

I want you to take away from this poem is:

I believe in spirits.  I think you

Get that now, and whether or not

You believe me, or whether or not

You believe in spirits, does not matter to me.

I told the truth.

That is the best I can do.

 

 


 

 

 




Please support my transition.  Thank you.  Radiance <3

I Am Not a Walking Incongruency, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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I Am Not a Walking Incongruency

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

me again 2

 

 

I am not a walking incongruency

Like I felt I was for so long.

This husky voice, this poorly covered

Five o’clock shadow, these shoulders,

Hands—and this–

This metallic-purple eyeshadow,

Creamy rose lipstick, this pink and gold glitter

You see in my hair and on my face,

This second-hand skirt and blouse,

These breasts, these turquoise painted fingernails—

This is all me.  The one and only

Incongruency is you.

Just because I do not agree

With how you think I should look

Or be, or dress, does not make me

The one who is wrong.  You

Are not even wrong, in the grand

Scheme of things.  However

If you insist on allowing who I am

To grind against the ideas

Of who you think I should be,

Then we have a problem.

If you cannot open the little box

Of what you think you believe

Even a little to me—or even to the idea

Of me—and yet you pray, worship

Something other than yourself

Something you believe

To be omniscient, perfect, and

The very origin and creator

Of infinite variety and love, then you

Are the walking (stumbling)

Incongruency.  You are

The one, whose box—

Whose cramped, little box

Of a life is closing off

Much needed light.

It is you who must work

To align the chimera of who you are

To the reality that is—

The reality where you

Are being led by incongruences

In sheep’s clothing.

 

 

 


 

 




Thank you for supporting my continued transition.  Yours, Radiance <3

 

I Met an Ocean Who Laughs in Many Tongues, by Radiance Angelina Petro

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I Met An Ocean Who Laughs in Many Tongues

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

I met an ocean who laughs in many tongues.

Every night she spills treasures from her blue apron

For those who seek in the morning, for those who look down

When they walk.  She coaxes awe and calm

From their feet by swirling kisses around them,

And if you were to pause right there in the middle

Of one of her feet-kisses—as she moves ever so slightly

Hire up your ankles—and really try to take in

Her presence–she would undress you from you,

And then, in one slow revelation, she would bathe you in you,

And ease your breath into sweet gasping,

And send her laughter lapping into your soul,

And if you have learned anything

From such intensity of attention,

Then, as you turn

To go, you will

Allow her

One, last, lingering touch,

And in her fiery, cool fingers

You will hear her laughter in many tongues

Rising passed your solar plexus, and far beyond

Into your brain, your ears, your voice,

And you will find yourself

Looking up into her partner, the sky,

Who will be by then reaching down to lift you

As you walk, deliriously singing,

Back into the world.

.

 

 


 

 




Please support my continued transition.  Thank you, Radiance <3