Joseph Anthony Petro
No more, he begged, crumbling to the floor, curling into a ball,
No more, he said, standing, fists clenched, shoulders straight,
No more, he whispered, gathering the frightened children in his arms,
No more, he wept, looking at himself in the mirror,
No more, he prayed, kneeling by the grave,
No more, he shouted to the sky, to the endless road,
To the silently falling snow,
No more, he cried to his nightmares, as he entered them
With handfuls of stars,
No more, he said to his tears, no more pretending
You are laughter. Fall. Fall without shame or censor.
Fall and water the roots of this moment.
No more, he said to his rage, no more thinking you have no place.
Do what you will—the world was created in fire.
No more, he said to the memories, no more hiding.
It is safe to breathe here, and to become light.
No more, he said to his heart, no more denying our brokenness—
Let us fall to pieces. There are those who will help us reassemble a way to live
And to love.
No more, he said, taking his soul by the hand,
No more going it alone.