Without Fear
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
The ocean spreads out generously
for days of miles. A small wooden boat
is moored near the shore. Nets drape
lazily in the water. The fisherman,
lulled to sleep by the soft buoyancy,
does not know the catch plays
idly in the webbing, jostling the ropes,
without fear.
Love, It Is
Thoughts By the Wonderful People at Rev. Rhetta Morgan’s Tuesday Night Ecclesia Fortify Circle
Arranged by Radiance Angelina Petro
We are not alone.
Love welcomes us, like
the sky—open and free
to all. It gives us unblocked
participation in the organization
of the universe. We are
active principles of the way
of things.
It is what draws us—a holy
magnetism, a shifting of wings,
a sharing of each blossom, just as
trees share everything they are,
we share the breath of the cosmos.
It listens empathically
to our resistance to injustice,
and breaks open the hard, frozen
ground of hate, transforming us
into spring, into the devotion of tears,
transforming us into midwives of mothers
of empathy, and creation, born
with the ferocity to raze and destroy
to protect each golden cocoon
from storms of scorn hurled
our way.
Fight, dig, push, clear
the everywhere shared ground
for the planting of fruits and flowers.
It is the everything welcoming sky,
open and free to all. We are
the breath of the heart, we are the one
who breathes, we are
lover and beloved, ever dancing,
ever praising, we are
not, and never can be, alone
in love’s it is.
For more information on the wonderful work Rev. Rhetta does, check out her website. <3
Keep an Open Mind
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
Blue irises spiral open in slow motion
the silken blades of their standards
and crests, their falls and hefts,
in the morning, in silence, in secret.
A dragonfly holds the swaying reed lightly
as a wish.
A turtle stretches its yellow-painted neck and head
up from the dark pond to get a look around
with its wide, round, military eyes.
Water striders glide across the water
with their long, outstretched symmetrical legs–
they even hop and skate—lighter than Jesus
ever was.
Gold-speckled koi move like dreams.
I step closer and an unseen frog
dash-plops into the shadowed-shallows—
like a lost prayer.
I stand there watching, waiting
for my purpose, for a poem to appear, like
a heron stepping from behind the curtain
of the willow.
How do I live consciously
in this vast, ecology of hope?
How do I answer unknown questions
that swim in my soul? How do I wonder
past my feeling lost in the everything that happens
and why, holding on to a reed of my own?
A black-spotted-orange-fire-colored-
salamander smoothly slips back under
a decomposing log, but not before
pausing to say: “Keep an open mind.
The answer is in the heron’s unfolding wings.”
White Butterfly
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
At the red light,
a woman in the car
next to mine—passenger side—
turns her head,
our eyes meet,
she rolls down her window
as if she wants to say something,
I roll down mine,
she opens her mouth,
(and I swear this happens),
a white butterfly flutters
from her mouth, and rises into the sky,
she stares at me a second,
rolls up her window,
the light turns green,
she drives away.
I swear, I swear,
I saw this happen.
Upon Hearing Its Name
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
Every snowflake
that falls
a part of a vast,
descending galaxy,
carries within
its center,
a piece of light,
and for a season,
exists
upon the earth.
Until the sun desires
its company,
at which time,
full of surprise
and trembling, turns
upon hearing
its name, and lifts—the cold
sheathe slipping away—
and reunites
with the warmth
of the Master’s
waiting hands.
Meditation
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
In the memory
there are many roads
pointing in many directions,
as in a crumpled
piece of paper.
Along each bent furrow
is a tiny clot of ink,
waiting for the warm touch
of necessity
to loosen it, unfold
and spread open
the map, allowing the words
to form, to lift, and scatter, like
a flock of sleeping birds
startled from the trees,
giving the world
what was written down
and forgotten.
When You Return
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
The moon conducts the orchestra of the waves.
Scales of fish contain petals of the sun.
Moths slip the gravity of their longing, and their wings catch fire.
Wind lifts and spins leaves in the corners of abandoned schools.
The child finger-paints a perfect circle.
Deer move together, leaving no hoof prints in the grass.
All creation wheels around the sun of its desire.
When you return to your Beloved, he will come to you, dancing.
Be the Wolf
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
It’s OK to stutter
when trying to speak
the poem’s desire.
“Be the wolf,” it might say
shaking your shadow
into biting back the words—
swallowing them, denying
your hunger, until you
can no longer bare it,
and drool begins dripping
from the edges of your mouth,
and you find yourself
baring your teeth, opening
your throat, and from deep in your guts,
tear apart the night—howling
into the darkness, preying
on anything that gets in the way
of your empty belly.
Unable to Turn Back
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
Deep in the drapery of the lily,
a dead bee lies curled in a pool of nectar.
Why did it die in such a sweet sacristy
enshrined in its last memory of golden,
pollen-dusted walls?
Perhaps if we ambled down
the tunneled curtains of our longing,
searching for a numinous center,
we wouldn’t notice either
that our every step was beginning
to stumble—dazzled and drunk,
our pockets becoming heavy
with treasures, the amphitheater
narrowing, as we slip away
from ourselves, drowning in sweetness,
unable to turn back.
Hints
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
They’re usually in the last place
you look. This goes for both
car keys and words.
Every barn, whether living or dead, holds secrets.
Garlic is good in rubs, sauces, and stews,
but most especially on buttered bread.
Tissues with aloe lotion on them
smear your glasses.
If you ever become lost again,
try to remember the whole world
is your home. Any road, that isn’t a dead end, like a belief,
can take you where you need to go. Every step
taken in good faith is what the journey wants.
Shadows inside slant the light.
When opening a door, pretend it leads to another
world.
If you wonder where your life has gone,
try not to look behind. Look forward,
towards the horizon, or, at very least,
towards the next stop, the next tree you see,
the next person you meet with your eyes,
the next song you hear, the next time
you praise.