Along the Way

Along the Way
Joseph Anthony Petro


Along the Way


I will fumble for the right words,
Old ideas I’ve built around how I think
Everything should go will crumble,
And there will be no doubt that again
And again I will stumble and fall.
I will bumble a big deal.
I will mumble telling the truth.
I will grumble when following
Someone else’s directions.
My thoughts will become entangled
In a jumble of feelings.
And through it all, the stomach of my soul
Will rumble with hunger for You, and You alone.
Along the way, which is of course, here and now,
The earth will be calling my name,
And as I draw closer to You, You will somehow
Tie heaven and earth together as I kneel
And allow my self to be lifted and placed
Securely in the lap of the way it is,
Where all of the fumbling and crumbling,
Stumbling and bumbling, mumbling
And grumbling, jumbling and rumbling
Will settle where it needs to be,
Which is in the sacrament
Of the present moment and me being





What To Do

What to Do
Joseph Anthony Petro


If you fumble around long enough
Words will turn up.
The trick is to keep searching.
Look under the dusty cushions
Of old ideas,
Or in the loose pockets
Of worn out prejudices,
Thumb through the flat, leather wallet
Of your past accomplishments,
Reach for the every day,
Explore the every where,
Touch the faces of revelation,
Brush open the hands of wonder.
Most of all, allow your awareness
To settle into the moment, like
A butterfly settling on a flower,
Or better yet, like a tone
Blossoming from a bell.
Your life is brimming
With meaning. This moment
Is ringing with the One
Word that holds all words,
That lifts all burdens into sunlight;
This moment, this life–look here,
Look now.




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River of Grace

River of Grace
Joseph Anthony

River of Grace

Yesterday spills over into now, like
A perpetual fountain; tomorrow
Waves backwards, catching us up
In its unfolding tide of mystery.
Now branches tributaries in every direction
Regardless of where you focus
Or how, or which way you turn
Your attention—you’re standing
In water, or succumbing to flowing
And rivering, rushing and burbling,
Hushing and tumbling over and over
Gathering up yesterdays, like
So many fallen leaves,
Roaring towards tomorrow, like
A waterfall that ultimately resolves
Into stillness and reflection where you’re breathing,
Body dripping wet, no longer ashamed
Of the time spent in yesterday,
Or the time spent in tomorrow,
You’ll just be here, half drowned
In sorrow, half resurrected
In hope—here,
where there is no right way
to act a certain way.
Hold out your hands, time is flowing.
Make a beginning, bring eternity
To your waiting, trembling lips.

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