Monthly Archives: April 2018

Cycle of Gladness, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Cycle of Gladness

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

All winter we shine our little fires

So that the sun may rest,

And we become the light

We need for each other.

 

Come spring, she blooms—

Speaks into our mind: “Thank you.”

And moves closer, warming the world

With her dazzling smile.

 

Come summer, she watches over us

So that we may lose ourselves

In the drifting, sleepy days,

And the evenings when she drapes

The sky with all manner of mingling

Pinks and blues.

 

Come fall, she slowly turns away,

Pulling cool covers around her shoulders,

But not before leaving the trees ablaze with gold,

And not before cherishing the gratitude

Rising from our hearts.

 

 

 


 


This Voyaging, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

This Voyaging

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Try as you might you never see your back

Without the aid of a mirror.  We go about

Our days not even thinking of our backs

Unless they hurt.  Outside of that,

We move forward, slowly,

Quickly, mediumly, always propelled

Ahead by some unseen wind, or force,

Or energy, or, for some, by destiny—but

For those it’s more of a pulling

Than a pushing.  At times when we notice

The wind at our backs, we feel the slight

Sensation that if we leaned forwards

Just a little we might be lifted

Through the sky, like a piece of silk,

Only to descend at night on the branch of a tree, like

A sleepy shawl.  Go through your day today, sensing

Your back space, give it your attention

As you drift or storm onwards.  Know this:

What your back looks like doesn’t matter.

That it’s there, absorbing the current, like

A sail, is what matters.  There is no use

For trying to look back at your back—

Knowing it’s there is enough,

Knowing it sweeps you forward is enough,

Knowing it steers you in mysterious ways is enough,

Knowing you have the ability to change course is enough,

Knowing the way opens, like the sea,

And sallies you forth through your life

To where a harbor waits, beckoning you

To come ashore, roam the village bizarre,

Lodge in a tavern’s upper room, gather

Provisions, and then rise, setting sail yet again

Knowing, this journey, this voyaging,

This being guided home is enough.

 

 


 


Landing, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Landing

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Landing in meditation

I found myself

With you.  Of course,

I knew you would be

Waiting, open for me

To read, and you waiting,

To offer ideas and suggestions

For revisions of my story,

And yes, I know the last sentence

As everyone does, and when

It comes, and the journal is full,

Another will be ready-made with sewn binding

And paper made of linen

Watermarked with your kiss,

And you will lift me

From the pages

Of the full one—complete

With your lavish touches

And crammed with my ridiculous adventures,

And you will say, with all the pride

Of a parent laying a newborn

Into a bassinet—

Live.

 

 

 


 



I Wake Up Thirsty, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

I Wake Up Thirsty

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Every night, I wake up thirsty.

The only thing to do

Is lie back in the dark water,

Letting the dried, inner chambers

Soak through and through,

And then dream–

Dream I am a waterwheel,

And you—a silent river flowing through me.

 

 

 


 


 

The Gardener Tends the Sleeping Flowers, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

The Gardener Tends the Sleeping Flowers

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

The gardener moves in the darkness among the flowers

And bushes in the cemetery of caves and stones–

Who does that?  Who gardens by the light of the moon?

Who touches the closed faces and hands

And whispers blessings upon them?

Who prunes unnecessary branches as if baptizing a child?

Who bends down, robe of golden threads mixing with the earth,

And pulls weeds from around the herbs and succulents?

Who sculpts the soil of the roses?

Who tends the nests of sparrows while at the same time

Looks for you?

 

The one who walks among the graves.

The one who sees your beauty in the shadows.

The one who turns towards you

Even when you do not recognize him.

The one who removes the hood of his cloak,

And calls you by name.

 

 

 

 


 



Buttercup Road, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Buttercup Road

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

When you go out you see.

The world opens a little more

With every turn of your gaze.

 

Yesterday, I walked the stretch of sidewalk

I call, Buttercup Road.  It’s lined with buttercups on both sides,

And if that doesn’t sting you with joy

Check your pulse.

 

I bent down to look more

Closely, each and every buttercup

Trembled with glee at the release of being seen—

Of little, old me witnessing their golden,

Shiny faces; of me getting close enough

I could have kissed them, petal by petal—I could have—

But didn’t.  I kissed them instead with praise and adoration,

And their hands opened wider for more.

 

That evening, I went back to visit them.

The sun was setting, the sky a splendid swirl

Of the transgender flag, and there they were—

Their faces cloaked in prayer, their hands cupping

The sun inside, their lips parted, touched

With moonlight all night long, I said to them:

“You dear, little lockets of honey, you holy, little chalices of sweetness,

I realize you are not here for me, you are here, like me,

For the sun; thank you for drawing my footsteps

Closer to the light.”