Tag Archives: transgender

When There is Nowhere to Turn, I Find Myself Surrounded by the Moon and Her Messengers of Light, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

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When There is Nowhere to Turn
I Find Myself Surrounded by the Moon and Her Messengers of Light
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

moon

One morning, walking through the January forest,
I watched the path double back on itself and disappear.
One evening, sailing on an indigo ocean of questions,
I saw the horizon swallow itself whole, like a monster all stomach and mouth.
I too searched for brains, a heart, and a home,
And the yellow-brick road turned into rust.
Heaven has fallen from the sky like so many shot-down stars.
There is nowhere to turn that doesn’t lead to ghost towns and empty silos.
My aspirations get stuck in the trees, like shreds of shawls.
Angels’ wings have folded.
Smiles are rimmed in blood.
Embraces reach for me and miss, grasping themselves.
The time has come for whirlwinds and blizzards,
The time has come for floods, and bone-rattling thunder,
Look—the sun was just swallowed by a wolf—
Look—the bridges have all burst into flame–
Look—
The moon is growing fuller,
Taking over the darkness—
Look—she is pulling the sun from the belly of the wolf–
Look—she is stilling the thunder and plucking my prayers from the trees—
Look-she is unfolding the path and shaking out the horizon and spreading it afar, anew—
Look—she is picking up the fallen stars and hanging them back in their places—
Look—she is brushing the angels’ wings and rubbing their shoulders—
Look—she is wiping the bloody mouths, like
A mother wiping a child’s face—rough and tender, all at once–
Look—she is steadying me so I don’t duck or fall when the embraces come—
Look-she is gently scolding me to listen better to her messengers of Light called:
“You.”
Look—she is lifting me, rocking me in the softest of breezes, singing,
And whispering runes and spells, affirmations, and ways through the dark,
And treasure maps and secret passageways through mountains and dungeons–
Her tears fall down her breasts, mixing with her milk as she lets me suckle
For as long as I need in the cradle of her light-filled, infinite arms.


 

 

All donations go towards my transition.  Thank you.  <3


 

Misfit of Light by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Misfit of Light
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

Oh sweet seed, how you bundled into the egg with such eagerness and gusto,
Oh sweet egg, how you nestled snuggly into the roots along the riverbank of my mother’s womb,
Oh sweet soul, being of love and light, how you sped through the heavens to guide this tiny spark,
Oh sweet spirit of wonder, how you swirled and danced and unfolded a girl into the body of a boy,
Did you get so caught up in the bliss of kissing the soul
That you took leave of your senses and careened drunkenly into the making of me?
It’s OK. I am not angry. I can make light of it today
Because I am an alchemist of form, able to transmute wood into moss and salt into musk,
I am a misfit of the highest order,
I am a being of light ungendered living in a vessel that walks in genders;
I am a chalice, a holder of sweetness, shaped with a cup and a stem unlike any other woman’s,
I am a journey–star-navigated through the cities and woods with a knapsack full of fruit,
I am a sailor and the sea and a ship made of ever smoothing wood,
I am the map and the country and the treasure marked with an X and an X and another X and a Y,
I am a heavenly body and a sky full of moons and stars,
I am a noble kink in the standard protocol of the world,
And I am loved by many—enough to become an open road of freedom,
Enough to sing my way home and into bed with the goddess
Who waits to render me back into her soul of souls
Where holy darkness blossoms all things misfit into perfect garden-mounds of joy.

 

 

 

 


All donations go to my transition.  Thank you.

 

 


 

Ode to the Medicines, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Ode to the Medicines
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

In a rush of water
The tan, round pill,
Like a little pebble,
Is blessed:

Thank you for finally
Putting an end
To all I never wanted to be,
Thank you for softening
Those parts that hardened
When abused,
Thank you for building a wall
So that paradise
May blossom here……………here………………………and here.

 

And then baptizing
The even smaller, smooth diamond-shaped,
Turquoise pill—Bringer of Dawn,
Highly Favored Lady,
Sacred jewel in the diadem
Of fragrant gardens—

Thank you.
Thank you for bringing water
To the desert of my soul,
Thank you for being the thousand keys
To the thousand locks opening
The thousand treasure boxes
Of who I really am,
Thank you for smoothing the rough edges,
Thank you for opening the flood gates
Of an adolescence that was stolen long ago,
Thank you for bringing together
The little girl, the woman, and the crone,
We dance in gratitude under the sacred fire for the moon,
For the medicines, for the beginning
Of a beginning that wasn’t
Allowed to start until now.
Now the goddess rises through a thousand days of sun,
Now the goddess rises with a holy spiral
In her middle, now the goddess rises
Cradling the moon,
Now the goddess rises
The earth her womb
The universe her spirit,
The horizon her brow–
Thank you coven of angels
For guiding the lost boy home
Give him the best of all things
For he was faithful to the end,
Thank you gathering of wise ones
For seeing me as I am,
And for holding me in the river of your arms.

 

wissahickon

 





Thank you for your kind donations.  They help support the costs of my physical transition, and keeping the Wonder Child Blog going.  <3


 

Trying to Focus on the Ceiling Up Close in the Half Light, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Trying to Focus on the Ceiling Up Close in the Half Light
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 
Looking up takes practice.
One doesn’t focus the eyes
So easily right off the bat,
Your eyes fight straining
So they don’t go all crisscross.
Give in to the white space however
And all manner of things emerge.
You begin to see colors,
And shapes assemble, and feelings
Of possibility and anticipation
Slowly build in your mind
Until finally you’ve fashioned a dream
To live in all day every day.
Of course your eyes eventually do go crisscross
And everything begins to blur,
And you wonder how long you’ve been
Staring at a ceiling so close to your face,
And then you wonder how you got up there,
And then you look down and just make out
Your assigned form lying there sleeping with blankets half off
Revealing just how frighteningly vulnerable
We all are when surrendered to the dark waves of living unconsciously,
And shivers run through you,
For you are doing just that up here
And everywhere you go,
And so you snip the chord
Binding you to that body
Which sends you fluttering through the ceiling, the attic,
And out into the cold, January night,
And you wonder why it is so windless,
And you wonder why you are so tissue-thin
When you feel so full,
And you wonder what unseen currents
Are bearing you, and you wonder where
And when it will end, and what your final form will look like
When you land in the arms of the moon.
And when she turns you over to kiss your face
And swathe you in caresses of light, you will wonder why
You ever waited so long to filter through the boundaries of your life
And become your fiercely awake and joy-receptive self.

 

 

 


 

 

Thank you for helping support my transition.  <3


Be Still No More, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Be Still No More
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 
Enough of listening for a still, small voice,
Enough of “Be still and know,”
Stir me on the inside with resonance,
Move me on the outside with kisses,
Sing me your guidance, o goddess of wisdom,
Sing it out loud like unmistakable thunder,
Shout your love from the great, strong winds,
Declare your presence as you shake the earth with dancing,
Enter my cave and shed your garments,
Uncover my face, remove my mantle,
Ask me your questions with your breath on my breasts,
Enough of this stillness, enough of gentle whispers,
Let your revelation ravish my soul like a storm.

 

storm clouds

 


 

 

 


All donations go to supporting the cost of my transition.

Thank you for helping me be on the outside what I am on the inside.

Winter Solstice by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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Winter Solstice
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

frost

 

 

My life thinking
I was a man
Froze into one long
Winter solstice;
During the darkness
Of beards and switch blades
I moved through time asleep,
During the endless
City-silencing snow
Confused relationships
Shattered like ice-laden branches,
During the deep cold of addiction
And orgasms dissociation in the ceiling
Provided momentary relief
From this mist-filled body,
In the frost-shawled grass
I stood barefoot to see
If I was alive, and when it snowed
I would drop and make flocks
Of angels to see my imprint
In wings and a dress,
Little did I know
This solstice was a Bethlehem,
Little did I know
My spirit was ripe with child,
Little did I know
Herod would have killed me
By mistake,
Little did I know
Light grew in the womb
Of my soul,
And with each lengthening day
More of me crested
From the dark bush of the dark mother
Into the world of melting snow,
And mother darkness
Became my heaven
Swaddling me in thankful,
Earth-scented arms,
And now, as I shed these last days
Of winter,
I find myself
Stepping into my life
Born fully realized
As Ruth, lover of Naomi,
As Mary Magdalene,
Lover of alabaster and fragrance,
As one of the two women
Grinding together
In Luke, only when the night comes
We shall both be whisked away
Scented in the sweetest sin,
Swathed in the most holy darkness,
And carried to heaven’s bed
Where we can bloom a Summer Solstice
Between our oceanic bodies of bliss.

 

melting

 


 

 

Thank you for kind donations.  All gifts go to my transition.

Prayers of the Ghosts

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Prayers of the Ghosts
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 
Inside of this forest of skin and bone
The autumn sun shines through the branches,
Evening breathes through the leaves,
Deer step from the center to the edges, silent as sunset,
A stream sculpts a pathway through the trees drawn by a waiting sea,
An owl spreads her wings and glides over the marsh of my fears,
A mountain, full of sleeping momma bears, stands behind me, sturdy and steady,
The moon sings through the crisp air spilling its song through the dancing ferns and whirling leaves,
Ghosts pray in the darkness, spreading ancient hopes and beckoning for light,
While dreams rest on the ground, languished on the cushioned earth and tangled in roots,
Waiting for me to answer the prayers of the ghosts, and set them free, like
Handfuls of butterflies on a newly realized morning in a newly realized spring.

 

 


 

 

 




This Being Transgender

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This Being Transgender
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

 

Dear Autumn,
This being transgender reminds me of what you must face;
People who haven’t thought of you for ages
Suddenly find themselves thinking of you and lamenting your arrival,
Others find you a fascinating anomaly in an otherwise endless summer
Of sameness and dreamy afternoons;
Others force themselves to stop thinking of you
With hopes of postponing an imaginary, apocalyptic winter,
Still others think about you so much they stop talking to you
And pretend you no longer exist, they fear
Your blazing changes will rub off on them,
They think your very appearance signals a heresy
That will send summer reeling—
Which it does–but not in distress does summer
Go tumbling through the leaves and out of town, it rolls on
Joyous of your presence and relieved
To finally be able to breathe fully and see spring’s children
For who they really are. And the heresy? It is there–
It signals the living fully what love stands for–
And that means comfort zones expanded,
Walls removed, and doors opened into the reality
Of the here and now, 2015.

 

Dear Autumn,
I see your graceful letting go,
I see you casting gold with trembling fingers,
I see your swaying vulnerability against a stark blue sky,
And I know I let go far less gracefully,
I cling to what must be tossed away,
I flail about believing
There is nothing gold about me
To even bother sharing;
I begin believing those who can longer look at me
Or who dread how I will influence their children—
I know better though, I know they only fear
How I will influence them—how I will magically
Nudge them away from the summer
Of their inner, thinly-hidden discontent
And out into the blazing colors of enlightenment,
I know better, but I cling to brittle branches
Of self-loathing.

 

Dear Autumn,
So many people tell me they need time to be able to just see me,
Some still believe a death has occurred, and yet, here I stand in my autumnal truth.
You and I both know nothing dies when you arrive;
Summer cartwheels over the hills and warms
Another place happy to be free to think new thoughts,
The leaves you share feed the soil and fertilize the seeds of spring,
The harvest of apples feeds many with mulled sweetness,
And if they could only see you in my soul
And be awed at the revelation of color and the arrival
Of gold and my ability to finally stand in the fifth direction
Of my journey, with all of the certainty of wonder and hope
Of voyaging further into the sky, the streams, the purple mountains,
The heart of love, and the ground of being;
If they would only look in the mirror of their deepest fears—
And see love looking back at them,
And how the faces of spring infants and angels of flamenco
Gather around the edges of their vision, then maybe they would get it—
Their reflection looks like us and them—it looks like every single tree
To ever wave in the wind and sleep bathed in moonlight,
And just rest easy knowing we are not signaling the end
Of all that is warm and held sacred,
We are heralding the beginning of freedom,
We are taking the leaves of sacredness
And casting them where they truly belong–
Into an infinite sky of infinite variety.

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All donations go towards my transition and to keeping the Wonder Child Blog Up and Running.  Thank you <3


What the Cicada Sees, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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What the Cicada Sees

by

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

looking up at tree

 

After combing through
Layers of moist earth and mazes
Of roots, the cicada nymph
Blooms from the ground
And begins climbing
Seeing only sky,
And branches
Waving: “Come on,
You can do it!” And it climbs–
Eyes on the prize, heart pumping,
Wings tingling waiting for space
To unlatch and spread,
Voice still trapped in an ever
Thinning skin, confidence
Growing with every plunge
Of its hooks–higher
Until it suddenly stops
In mid-motion,
Pauses in time and space,
Unable to go even one more step
In its old clothes,
And then,
And then it gives birth unto itself,
Slowly sloughing off
Doubts and fears,
Never once losing track
Of the heaven awaiting
And the heaven of the moment,
And the heaven of simply opening
Itself to the sky,
And letting the song it has been
Composing for years soar
Through the summer trees
Announcing to all things
The truth of transformation,
The truth that we are all
Bound to change,
The truth that even the darkest time
Spent among roots and soil,
Leads to wings, leads
To open spaces, leads to becoming
Who you really are.

 


 

 

All donations go to keeping the Wonder Child Blog afloat and to my Transition.  Thank you.  Love, Jennifer


A Life Lived With Wings, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

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A Life Lived with Wings

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

You see the opening from which

wings unfurl swirling rainbows

from which champagne colored eyes

see a multitude of possibilities—

from that opening, from that wound

that started like an insatiable itch,

a mysterious longing for light–

from that space and focus of pain

bloomed the song of summer,

birthed a patient hider,

a thrower of voices, a winged symbol

of resilience—staying underground

for as long as needed—

seventeen years or forty-seven,

nursing roots of trees, absorbing

moon-drenched waters,

clothing yourself in earth,

until your back thrums, until

what little, stumbling strength

you have turns into grappling hooks,

and you find yourself emerging

from your own life—climbing

towards what you never knew

you wanted, until you can say,

like me, I am a walking opening,

I am a living wound, I am

the giving birth to myself, I am

the one with rainbows in my eyes,

I am the one who sings

Deep into the sky, the story

of a life lived with wings.

 

cicada

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

All donations go to keeping the Wonder Child Blog Afloat and my Transition.

Thank you.  Love, Jennifer