My Undoing, by Radiance Angelina Petro

My Undoing

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

I do not want to be reborn.

The before is filled with darkness

and sorrow, learned fears, and sickness.

 

Let my death

be an unfolding,

unburdening,

a blessed untangling,

a wedding unveiling,

an easy unloosening,

a gentle unhusking,

a tender unlacing,

a sweet unraveling,

let me be unharmed,

untasted,

unbroken,

untwisted,

let union with my Beloved

be unstoppable,

a hungry unclothing,

a wild fulfilment

unconditionally accepted,

unequivocally wonderful,

let our timelessness

together

be unrushed,

our passion unabridged,

my shame unlearned,

the moments of bliss

exquisitely unquenchable,

let my soul be unlocked,

unchained,

uncuffed,

uncrumpled,

let my conversations, once and for all,

be undramatic,

let my soul be untethered,

unfaded,

unfallen,

let there be space

and time

to unfeel,

unform,

to become

uninhibited,

unfurled,

unjaded,

let the warmth of breathing

together

be the unfreezing of lifetimes of winter,

let death be joyful,

unmasking,

unmaking,

unquestioned,

let my fears be unneeded,

my hours unnumbered,

my Beloved’s love

unavoidable,

undressed,

unserious,

unending,

let my unsteadiness be steadied,

my innocence untainted,

untarnished,

unstolen,

my self-hatred unthroned,

my soul untrodden,

let me be finally unwrapped,

unwoven,

unafraid—the gift

of an old life unlived—

lived now, accepted

safely, in peace,

in His hands—

let this

be my undoing.

 

 

 


 

 


Grace, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Grace

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

The tendency of the hand is to tremble,

streams swirl, not just flow straight,

like the bird in the act of disappearing,

the sky bequeaths breath that provoke longing.

 

There are fish swimming no one can see,

moon daisies grow in silence,

the willow traces circles on the ground,

alluding to an unavoidable loneliness.

 

There are so many broken reeds,

the moon’s reflection drowns in the sea,

everything turns the color of straw,

the body is but a blouse for the soul

and will one day drop, spiritless to the ground,

and therein lies the truth—paradox points

to life’s lack of solidity, and it all suggests

a coming storm. Time will prove disastrous.

 

Listen, someone is coming from inside.

There are appointments in palaces.

Wings of grace will carry you

to the chord sustained that binds it all

together.  When you see him, you will know,

he is here to disappear you home.  He is here

with eternity’s mercenary motives.

 

Once, long ago, you promised him your life.

His arrival is the love-dyed acceptance

of fulfilling what you want the most.

 

 

 


 


The Shore of My Life, By Radiance Angelina Petro

The Shore of My Life

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

In case I find myself, it will be because

of his marvelous adaptability to my faults.

The magnetism of his imagination

for who he knows me to be, will free the light

held captive by darkness.

 

When the hinges snap, and the casket

of this body flies open, and the mortise

and tenons of my bones loosen,

the once memorable liturgies of my life

will drift away.

 

When the breeze has waned and the air

lays suddenly still, he will come nearer than ever,

noticing I am a tremulous soul.

“My name is Courage,” he says. You are vouchsafed in me.

Come, let us step over the shore of your life,

where I will cradle you in the sea.”

 

 

 

 

 


 


Still Places, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Still Places

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

Love melts reason as the sun melts butter.

Frighten Kal away with the light of your heart.

The power is within you, where else would it be?

 

When the complications that come from choosing

overwhelm, and the slow, arc of your life

cracks its joisted beams, remember

 

love is easy in gardens, and he lives among roses.

With his voice soft as cobwebs, he whispers

the fulfillment of his promise over and over.

 

Even the frog has a jewel between its eyes.

Even sorrow confesses a blessing. And he has placed

a watermark on your soul.

 

His way is always thoroughgoing, and your nights together

will taste the incense of union, and you can never be lost

from the field of his vision.  Rest in the still places

he has waiting for you.

 

 

 


 


It’s True, by Radiance Angelina Petro

It’s True

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

Mentally, there is no such thing

as silence.  It’s all noise, floods,

earthbound wants revolving away

one after the other, creating something

of a kind of elsewhere, without ceiling

nor sky—just an ever-scattering,

and sometimes a storm of hoofbeats.

 

Gestures proceed speech.  So, move,

put down whatever it is you’re doing,

and sit.  Prepare yourself to be known.

Let him sculpt your efforts into song,

let your longing dye the words,

tie the syllables together gently,

let the vowels flow and glide as wind;

make every word an oath.

 

Even when it feels you’re doing

simran from the bottom of a well,

let him carry you to a beautiful beyondness,

as he binds your soul to heaven.

 

 

 

 


 


Love Words, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Wanting to Run

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

The day the mantle was draped on his shoulders

was the day he martyred himself with his surrender

to his own master.  He dropped his life,

in utter disbelief at Sawan’s feet.

 

We know he wanted to run.  We know

the letters he wrote, how inconsolable

he was, how unworthy he felt to take up

the task set before him.

His mind must have rattled in shock

at the sudden, sharp separation from his dreams.

 

From that day, he woke and worked, doing all

that was asked of him.  From that day

he gilded Dera with the highest example

of complete obedience.

 

His heart must have trembled the first

time he climbed the steps of the dais to sit

before the thousands. His heart must have ached

looking into the frightened faces of those turned away

from initiation.

 

And here I am with my hobbling commitment,

yet bathed in the fruits of his faithfulness, of the fiat

he gave to the Lord to give birth to the Word

that ever lives in my spindrift heart.

 

 

 


 


Blossoming Forever, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Blossoming Forever

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

At the end of the day, we are all

light-seekers.  In this world of seeming

and guessing, the impulse towards

ever-spring unfolds the flower of longing.

 

Only he knows the seasons of consciousness,

the inner purpose of flowers.  He aligns

seeds towards the sun as they sleep.

 

Darkness is the point of departure.

It is soul-changing, and he uses it

to encourage us to enter the struggle upwards.

 

Grain seeds found in Ancient Egypt grow.

No matter how long we sleep

he can wait forever for the celebration

of flowering.  Taking slow, simple, sips

of pure contentment, he watches us grow in his garden.

 

He knows all about withering, and the falling

of petals.  He knows pain determines

so much.  He knows winter comes, and so,

he turns his light into sweetness, and his voice

into warmth, and he cultivates within us a willingness

to accept surprises. Surprises, like, why-questions

suddenly unriddled, surprises, like the sky,

surprises, like eternity, surprises, like

blossoming forever

in his hands.

 

 

 

 


 


Vestiges, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Vestiges

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

It was a soft beginning—

just his voice weaving

invitations for me to live

my way into his breathing

and the spaces between the little

pauses before he said: “Well, brother,”

“Well, sister.”

 

His love does not fit

into practical life.  He inclines

to the marvelous, and so hearts

careen towards him, turning

the day-to-day upside down.

 

Meanwhile, I blunder ahead.

My wants lead me where

there is nothing to see but him.

He uses the wear and tear of the seasons,

and the fear blocking the entry of light

to awaken secrets of his always

and everywhere grace.

 

The persistent art of his patience

crosses thresholds of distance,

snatching me from the edge

of the maw of emptiness that touches

everything I do.

 

I want a soft ending, where he

lifts me, as he would a child,

from the vestiges of memory,

where all that is left is the eternity

of his voice; where the only place

left for me to go is the cradle of his arms.

 

 

 


 

 

 


Wanting to Run, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Wanting to Run

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

The day the mantle was draped on his shoulders

was the day he martyred himself with his surrender

to his own master.  He dropped his life,

in utter disbelief at Sawan’s feet.

 

We know he wanted to run.  We know

the letters he wrote, how inconsolable

he was, how unworthy he felt to take up

the task set before him.

His mind must have rattled in shock

at the sudden, sharp separation from his dreams.

 

From that day, he woke and worked, doing all

that was asked of him.  From that day

he gilded Dera with the highest example

of complete obedience.

 

His heart must have trembled the first

time he climbed the steps of the dais to sit

before the thousands. His heart must have ached

looking into the frightened faces of those turned away

from initiation.

 

And here I am with my hobbling commitment,

yet bathed in the fruits of his faithfulness, of the fiat

he gave to the Lord to give birth to the Word

that ever lives in my spindrift heart.

 

 

 

 


 


Bound by Fire, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Bound by Fire

By

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

Somehow, he made time to give darshan

to the mountains. Somehow everywhere

he created fountains and flowers.

 

Somehow, he follows my long wanderings

for I rarely stick to the road, and somehow

I am never fully lost.  Somehow, he calms

the motely crowd of my thoughts.

 

Even with my doddering efforts

he immerses my life in eternity’s extravagance.

He enters into conversation with my darkness

and suggests the beautiful.  His love

drives me out of the cave of my desires,

his touch is lightsome and tender,

his voice the beginning of the passageway

to surging amazement.

 

“The rose unfurls from a still center,” he says,

“live into our being drawn together,

into being bound to the fire of my love for you.”