In the Beginning, Now

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

The day the banished couple

Sat desperately trying to sew together

The leaves of paradise, was the day

Poetry was born.

To attempt to go back you must walk

In pure sound and naked images,

You must grapple with knowing

The tree of life is still yours

And what, if anything, are you going to do

About it?

The snake was just being a snake,

And by that I do not mean—evil—

I mean whatever the next thought is

When trying to flesh out the creator,

I mean, whatever the next thing is

You do when you realize your nakedness—

Let these ideas, and all others, scatter, like

So many puffs of the dandelion,

Let any shame be gone, and your power be now,

Let your wonder become tears,

And your tears become words.

Breathe Deeply the Wonder

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

Everything holds a cache of light.

You can see it, of course, in the eyes

And hear it in the singing voice,

At times it drips from the fingers

When the touch is one of mercy.

When we die—when every living thing

Dies—that planted light releases

Into the air, the sky—it lifts, like

A firefly from the field, and travels

God knows where.

If we could see the light going forth

From each thing that dies—each person,

Animal, flower, insect, mite, microorganism—

It would look like a constant carnival—

A festival of lanterns, a galaxy of fireflies—

Every second of every day—each and every moment—

Things die all around us—little, luminous lights rise

From everywhere—bushes, trees, porches,

Sidewalks, hospitals, homes—everywhere light—

Light rising, like a million tiny mornings,

Light diving, like melting snow, back into the earth,

Light smiling at the sudden spiral into freedom–

Ascensions bloom all around us, dartling like

So many intimate flames—

If we could see—and we can if we try—

We would understand we walk through flocks of stars,

And our steps should be conscious and deliberate—and yet as of a child’s–

We live and move in light whirling through branches

And windows, gardens, and streets—

And one day, your light—my light—

Will join the celebration—and someone will marvel

At light’s agreement with the darkness, pray for the illumination,

And breathe deeply the wonder.

Vision

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

Three horses step through the ruins

Searching for God knows what.

Mist swirls from their great nostrils,

A red sun sheens over their riverous muscles.

They move from body to body

Nosing the ones still warm.

As they approach the edge of the city,

Their manes tossing like seaweed in a slow-motion-sea,

They hang their heads low, kiss the ground,

And disappear.