Category Archives: poetry

Changing Everything, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Changing Everything

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

You know very well

When you push a mug off the table

It breaks.

You know very well

When you take steps

Towards your door

You get there.

You know very well

About cause and effect,

How when the butterfly

Opens and closes her wings

As she dapples around the field,

She makes waves somewhere

Far away.  You may feel

Insignificant.  You may feel

Inconsequential, but the truth is

Everything you do, every movement,

Gesture, and breath, shimmers

Out over and into the silver fabric

Of time and space.  Everything

Eventually touches everything else,

No matter whether you sense it or not.

There is no need to sit back

And feel afraid or ashamed,

Or like you may as well be

A feather on the breath of God.

You are not the feather.

You are the breath.  Speak

Your life, declare your spirit,

Move, like a giant, and that

Doesn’t mean stomping

And ravaging around—it means

Be big in your plans, be heard

As you become more and more yourself,

Even if that means being

Quiet as a mouse, making

Tiny, meticulous arrangements—

Sooner, or later, your presence will

Rattle the castle and waken the cat,

So, move as if your very existence

Touches everything and everyone

Around you and faraway, because

It does.  And should you ever feel

Buffeted around, like the afore mentioned

Feather in the wind, then go—

Release yourself into that

Until you come to rest on the water

Beneath the trees, where your arrival

Radiates out, moving the eyes

Of fish and frog and the otter drifting

With the moon on its belly,

Changing everything just by being

You.

 

curtis

 

 


 

 

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Finding the Field, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Finding the Field

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

It’s there.

Inside.  And that

Is so easy

For me to say.

And for that, I am

Ever grateful.  For you,

It may not be.

The furthest thing

May be a field

Inside you.

It might be so far

Away it may as well

Not even be there.

You might be

Full of vast ink-

Oceans and fog

That moves as if

It was alive—the darkness

Might be so all

Encompassing you

Can’t imagine

Anything else in there.

Try this though—

Close your eyes, and take

As slow, deep a breath

To the count of four as you can,

Hold it gently to

The count of four,

Then exhale slowly

To the count of four,

Do this sequence three times

And then low

A field appears

In front of you, watch—

It might be golden wheat,

It might be soft green

And full of flowers,

It might be a field

Of sunflowers stretching as far

As the eye can see.

See the golden field

Sway as the wind touches

Each strand with so much

Tenderness, see how the field

Ripples with a river of joy from the touch,

See it—the sun—raying exquisitely

Humming light—honeyed

And warm; and see

Blue sky arching over

A perfectly color-

Coordinated relationship

With the field.

Notice you are

Standing just outside

The field. Realize

The wheat, the grass, the wild flowers

Nearly all come up

To your waist–

Except the sunflowers—

See them bowing their heads

To smile upon you—

And there you are just

On the edge of the field.

You reach out your hand,

And brush the top of the grass.

Now, you can either step into the field

Or you can turn around

Back to whatever it is

That’s behind you.  There

You have a choice:

Brilliant, luminous light-touched

Field, darkness that isn’t

The nourishing kind, but draining.

Whatever it is you choose,

Know this:  you now have

A field inside you,

And it will always be there,

It always has been there

Swaying beneath the breath

Of the one who loves you.

The next step is not just

Up to you.  I mean, it is, and also

There are forces–

Currents and hands

Pushing and pulling, guiding,

Persuading, nudging, influencing

The way.  And there are the ones

Who, for whatever the reasons

Cannot choose—illnesses of many kinds

Perhaps inhibit the ability to freely choose—

Those will all be born along

And cared for as they bloom

Into full health and radiance.

For those who can, and I believe

You are one of them—you

Are blessed to be able to choose. Finally, there

Appears a thousand fireflies

Floating and bobbing,

Right there, in the daylight,

Illuminating light upon light,

And whatever you do

When the time comes to decide,

Remember this: there is field inside you,

Swaying beneath the breath of the one

Who loves you.

 

IMG_20160714_200900


 


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Morning’s Arrival, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Morning’s Arrival

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

The tree leans in,

Taps the window.

The one inside

Rises slowly,

Moves, touches the pane.

 

Suddenly it’s gone—

Dissolving into vast, open spaces;

And the freshness of the air

Fills the body, lifts the spirits,

Calms the mind, frees the soul.

 

The one inside

Breathes for the first time

In years, allowing the fingers of the tree

To dance over them

With the utmost tenderness,

Spreading a joy so clean,

So almost unimaginably sweet–

Yet there it is—rivering through them.

 

And as the tree continues its feather-light

Touches, the one inside

Moves further, closer, and climbs

Into its branches, settles

Into its arms, and the tree—

Rooted deeply in the cool, delicious earth,

Cradles the one inside, who is now

The one outside, and lifts them up

Towards the moon and the stars,

Holding them aloft—a new born

Child—and sways, and hums

Freedom songs into the sky, and waves as gently

As morning’s sun-filled arrival.

 

 

img_20161108_123917


 


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It’s Like This, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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It’s Like This

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

I stand here.  The monster

Stands there—in front of me

Mirroring my every move.

 

Separating us is a glass wall

Whisper thick and strong as hope.

 

Some days I barely think

Of the monster, yet I know it’s there–

I see it, out of the corner of my eye,

Doing everything I do.

 

There are days it pounds on the glass—

Howling, pacing, and somehow

Growing.  Every morning

I reinforce the wall, look at the monster,

And stare it down.

 

Lately, I notice spiderwebbing cracks blooming

Over the wall.  The monster presses

The glass, testing its solidity, smiling.

 

I assume it will hold.  I assume it is

Strong enough.  And then I blink and the monster’s hand

Passes through the wall as if it isn’t there.

I blink again and the monster is back

On the other side of the wall, blocked

From reaching me, or, at least, I assume.

 

Going about my life, dependent

On a wall whisper thick and strong as hope

Makes me feel, at times, like a sham, like

If it wasn’t for the wall the monster would be

All there is, like I am not as truly well

As I think I am.

 

The wall will not last forever,

The wall may need to be adjusted

In strength, and still I fear it will not last

Forever.

 

And all the while the monster

Grows, waiting, watching, studying what I do.

 

If the wall finally gives way,

The monster will take hold of me, toss me to where

It once stood, build a wall of its own,

Scream-thick and strong as hell,

And it will go into my life, smiling,

Leaving me behind and to do everything

It does, but in slow motion, all the while I am turning

Into a memory of light snuffed out

By the dark.

 

 

 


 

 

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The Darker the World Becomes, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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The Darker the World Becomes

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Winter, I am here.

I should be sleeping, like

The bears and bees, and somewhere

The bats.

 

Yet, I am awake.  And there is

Darkness, and there is cold, and there is

The silencing of snow, and yet,

I am here, awake, and as best I can,

A light, and as best I can—descending.

 

The earth has been compressed—

Seeds and all manner of growing things—

Are pressed deep into the cold ground.

 

I am still walking.  And through

Winter’s necessary darkness, I move,

And as I do, striding with my little light,

The darkness spreads, parts, like curtains,

And with every step, the darkness gives way

Illumined and warming towards spring.

 

This isn’t to say darkness is wrong,

This isn’t to say I am savior or enlightened,

It simply means I am awake, it simply means

I have a job to do, it simply means

My soul is in the right place, it simply means

The darker the world becomes

The brighter I will be.

 

 


 

 

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Making Little Musicals, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Making Little Musicals

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

It’s amazing, isn’t it?

How our everyday speaking

Voices can be elevated

Instantaneously, into singing.

Think of it—one word

You can speak, one word

You can sing—a sentence can

Rise and fall in and out

Of song like the invisible path

Of a butterfly wings.

I know, you might be

Thinking—And?

To which I say:  And everything!

Everything is right there

In that simple, effortless

Reshaping of sound, of carrying joy

On the breath from within you.

Perhaps everything said should be sung,

Perhaps every year that goes by

Should be full of song, or,

At very least long stretches

Of each season—Imagine that–

Even if some songs are dirges, even if some songs

Are sung on tip-toe just out of our range,

Even if some songs

Are in languages we do not understand,

Even if some songs are screamed like ones

In a punk band, even if some songs

Are in three-part harmony,

Even if some songs move us

To tears, even if some songs

Lift us into realms of glory–

I think we should try it—sing

Every word for one day

And see how much fun it could be

Making little musicals

While buying a cup of coffee,

Or saying, hello while holding

The door, or sending the kids

Off to school, or arguing over

Politics, or teaching in a classroom,

Or giving a sermon, or while greeting

A pet or spouse, or telling someone

You love them forever.

 

clouds light

 

 


 

 


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One Way to Prepare, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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One Way to Prepare

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Exhale: Release and create,

Inhale:  Gather and nourish,

Exhale: Loosen and share,

Inhale:  Draw and replenish,

Exhale: Surrender and sigh,

Inhale:  Unite and receive,

Exhale: Express and give,

Inhale:  Assemble and hold,

Exhale: Relinquish and set free,

Inhale:  Store and treasure,

Exhale: Cast and measure out,

Inhale:  Claim and protect,

Exhale: Bestow and rejoice,

Inhale:  Shore up and fortify,

Exhale: I am awake and ready.

 

 

 


 

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That Stubborn Superhero, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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That Stubborn Superhero

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Out in nature, which is

To say, in us—it happens

This way:

 

The longest night comes

Filling what little day there is left

With thinly veiled darkness,

That, veil after veil, begins

To cover the day, like

A shawl thrown in slow motion

Over a lamp.

 

After the night has had its run,

It slowly—you’d better believe it—

Shrinks back to a more manageable size,

It contracts as the day exhales,

And with each exhalation, spring,

Moment by seemingly imperceptible

Moment—swells with such joy

It can barely contain itself.

 

And the light begins to coax the darkness

Into slipping away into time and to allow

Itself to grow its slow, wild warmth.

 

We have all gone through darknesses

That seemed to last forever—

At least—I have—when I couldn’t

Believe any light would ever come

Ever, ever, again, and that the abyss

Of not being able to see or hardly move

Would enshroud me forever.

 

If this has ever happened to you,

Or maybe is happening to you

Right now—believe it—spring always

Comes—little by hardly noticeable little

Darkness becomes less and less

And seeds of exhaultation can’t wait

To burst into flowers and tangible light.

 

I am not saying all darkness is bad.

There is a holy darkness, touched

With water and earth, where fireflies

Bedazzle the night, where love-making

Eases us into the sweetest sleep.

 

I am talking about the darkness

That swallows the will and chews it

Practically into nothing.

 

Just as too much light burns,

Too much darkness freezes the soul.

 

So, take my word for it—as someone

Who has been there and is taken there

Against my will every year—the swallowing darkness

Turns and slips away like a receding flood of black ink

Eventually, leaving gardens of survival,

Fragrant with honeysuckle,

And damp with laughter.

 

You’d better believe it,

Or if, like me, sometimes

That is impossible to do–

Pretend to believe it—or even if

That is too hard to do—don’t then–

Because its true regardless:

Never once has the night held captive

The day forever.  Day, that stubborn superhero,

Will break free of night’s weakening grasp,

And soar, ringing through the fields,

Leaving visible hope spreading

Over all the land.

 

tree hope


 

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Of All Things Let Go, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Of All Things Let Go

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

morning snow 2

 

It’s possible to imagine snow

As time silently shrouding

Everything.  It’s possible

To think of snow

As the gradual smoothing

Of all the rough edges;

Sometimes you can

See Lady Winter draping shawls

Over the shoulders of the trees,

And, of course, you can see

Snow as burden, as the laying down

Of funeral blankets on flowers,

It is the great quieter of color

And the crumbler of fruit,

It is the world gone still and

More trudging, yes, and sometimes,

Go out and stand, allow

The cold kisses to touch your face;

Lift your arms and let them

Be blessed with that so uncommon

Feeling of being alive, and watch–

The snow falls from the unseeable sky,

Look– the crystal stars form

On your sleeves, each one

Bestowed with infinity—that alone is enough

To fill one with swooning wonder,

Notice too, how your breath

Issues its swirling ghosts

Of all things let go,

How winter absorbs them

Into herself as the prayers

That they are, and treasures them

Until one day, when she turns

Her great skirts and drifts away

Over the houses and hillsides

Leaving all that was let go

For spring to tend and encourage

With warm hands, their rebirth

Into the sun.

 

 


 

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Christmas 2017, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Christmas, 2017

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

We all know

Whose birthday it is today:

 

Yours.

 

Throughout the womb

Of this dark year

Of tyrants and blindness,

You formed yourself

Afresh and full of doing.

 

You made it, you did it.

You are born today,

A child of light, wonderful,

A counselor I am sure

To someone, and yes, why not—

Mighty Divine Being,

Everlasting, non-gendered—

Unless you want a gender—

Person, and Prince, Princess,

Fairy Queen, Unicorn Badass,

Of Peace.

 

And for all of you

Thinking this poem is

Heretical—grow up,

Or down, whichever you need,

And while doing so

Look into the eyes of your friends,

See oceans of mysterious wisdom

Reflecting back at you,

And know you reflect back

The same, and know too,

The mirror reflects a light

Begotten and holy and never before

Seen or felt or known

On this planet.  You

Are born today anew

To save the world

By being who you

Are born to be.

 

And if your heart or life

Or room feels like a manger,

That’s alright for today,

And even for tomorrow—

Let the kindly animals

With the luminous, marble eyes

Come and nibble from your hands,

Laugh and chortle as you grow,

As you know, every time

You hear the word: Jesus,

Christ, God—they are

Referring to you.

 

Born today you are,

Born today you ever will be,

Born today, this day

Of days, you are here,

A star, a child, the magi,

A lamb, a shepherd, an angel,

A parent to yourself

Who may be being told

In a dream to move on

To safer lands—rejoice,

You are here, rejoice

You are the light, rejoice

The safer land is there,

In your voice creating the world.