First Snow, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

First Snow

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

The sky says:

Shh—Listen.

 

Hear that?  No?

Good.

 

Close your eyes,

Listen more.

 

Hear that? No?

Good.

 

That silence

Is there

For a reason.

 

Grab a coat,

Step outside,

Open your arms,

Lift your face to the sky.

 

Hear that?

Good.  Feel that?

Good.  That is

The reason, that is–

Such marvelous,

Dazzling stillness;

Such exquisite

Calm, such soothing

Kisses from winter’s

Hushed lips.

 

Breathe in, feel that—

That briskness and quickening.

Good.

 

There are

A million reasons,

So many reasons,

Each one crystalline

And delicate, yet

Powerful enough

To quiet the world—

If only for a moment—

If only long enough

For you

 

To feel and to listen

To love’s softening,

To winter’s patient

Blanketing.

 

That silence is there

Not to threaten,

But to assure you

You are alive.

 

As you go back

Inside, to the noise

Of notifications

And important things to do—

You are invited,

You are allowed,

You are known.

 

You are part

Of the wisdom of the sky

That says: shh.

 

first snow buddha

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries.  Thank you for your support. <3


Angel Speak, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Angel Speak

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Every night, a friend

Comes to talk with me,

Carrying word of faraway

And intimately near places.

Sometimes she talks,

Animatedly, with an urgency

Known only to those with important news,

Sometimes she talks

In gently bobbing waves of psychedelia,

Which carry me on their drifting

Clouds to the shores of morning.

Sometimes she chases me

Without a word—just pursuing me

As if I were quarry, sometimes

She drops me, plunging me

Into the day, sweating and panicked.

Even when she appears sinister,

I have come to know she simply wants

To send messages from the soul.

 

And every morning, I wake

And forget everything

She said.  Well, some of it

Lingers for a few moments, like

The scent of honeysuckle in spring;

But eventually, as I dress,

And rustle papers and books,

It fades, or lifts, or blows,

Or flies, or runs

Away.

 

I think sometimes

What if she ached to be known,

To be heard, to be validated, seen?

 

What if she simply wanted

To be there, like

An angel by the riverside.

 

Indeed, what if

All dreams were flocks of angels

Forming grand gestures and landscapes

Of secrets intent on revelation?

 

What if she was trying

To tell me she needed help

Or that the spiritual world

Was in trouble?

 

What if she was trying to tell me

That it’s time, as I sleep

Through my day,

To wake up and start singing?

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries. Thank for your support. <3



Reassembling, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Reassembling

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

You know something.

When everyone rises

From the dead on the first day,

And the dancing starts–

Even as bones are rejoining

With golden bands and golden thread,

The earth will sigh

The deepest sigh—

A sigh like the dawning sun

On a shimmering sea,

And she will weep for all

She gave birth to, for all

She cradled in their death,

For all, who, upon hearing

Mercy’s music, will reassemble

In shifts of light—whirling

Dervishes in a New Jerusalem,

Little galaxies of arms opening

To possibilities—the forgiving ones,

One and all, forgiven

In the dance of deepest sighs.

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries. Thank you for your help. <3


Creating the World, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Creating the World

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Most of us know how

The world around us

Helps shape us—

Our morals, likes

And dislikes, ways of seeing,

How we listen, and to whom.

 

For the sake of this poem, however,

I am not just referring to the world

As society and culture,

And the morays we absorb

So easily and release so stubbornly.

 

I am speaking of the air,

The world-forces of creation,

How we are born into movement,

And how the boundaries

Of skin and bone are sung

Into form as we live, move,

And have our being in the world,

Literally sculpted as we go

By the responsive hands of space.

 

Now, here, as you move,

As you get up from your chair

To walk across the room,

As you go to dress, or eat,

Or kneel in prayer,

As you reach out to a lover

Or to pick up an infant,

Or hand the cashier your change,

Or receive an embrace,

Know, now, here, you

Are sculpting the world.

 

The very space you move

Within-to-with, you shape—

 

The air, the back space

And the many little circles

And planes you walk this day—

Become embodying language;

Your movements create

Form and living paintings

In space and time and breath,

The world responds

To your every movement,

Your every touch, and push;

 

You unfold and color the world–

As you propel forward—

The way parts and blooms around you

As if you were swimming

In a sea of impressionable air—

Because you are.

 

As you live through-with

This day, delineating your space,

Open your movements—

Your arms and the myriad

Of little dances you do,

Widen your gestures, welcome

And invite, give and receive,

Describe space with grace and purpose—

Adorn the world

With you.

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries. Thank you. <3