Today, By Radiance Angelina Petro



Radiance Angelina Petro



There’s a way of getting the pillow just right

behind my head, and my socks cannot be falling

down to my ankles if I am to sleep.


Is it true a song hums just behind/within everything we see?

I bend to listen to a gardenia, and laugh.


As I drive, repeating five holy words, the rain pulls my car

ahead, along the road.


Somewhere, someone gets up from the back row

of a church, and walks for miles, lost, towards home.


I know everything matters in such a way as to not.

The song keeps flowing.  The words–audible light.

And the rain lifts its silver curtains, and the moon appears

making the wet road shine.


Someday, I will awaken, and step in from the crowd,

and follow your voice to where my prayer shawl waits,

draped over the living room chair.


Until then, I will adjust the pillow, pull up my socks,

and drift to sleep.







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