The Conjuring Chant
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

When I was a little girl,
trying to be real,
the adults around me–
flattening the world–
could not slay wonder.
The sheer mystery
of even a handful
of fallen leaves,
or the spider web nearly
walked into—or even myself
making the soap dirty
with my hands just
before dinner after a day
of exploring the woods alone.
Because I knew enough
the anticipation of tomorrow’s dirt,
the fields, the creek, the stains
that will never wash away,
and the conjuring chant of
I will not be stopped.