No Body Else but Yours
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Listen, trees
breathe you
breath drawn
from roots,
drawn from darkness,
that, in turn,
breathe the earth
cradled in arms
that spiral stars
with revolutions
of joy.
The next time
you feel wind
on your face,
know you are dear
to the heart
of the world;
how you are
touched
with eternity
breathed
from lungs
of love and sighs,
that are, in turn,
born from a longing
for nothing more
than a glance
that is no body
else’s but yours.
The Wandering Now
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Are there times, plural? Times
That exist multiplied, added,
Subtracted, divided?
Or is it one time and one time only?
Is it one borderless time—no alpha,
No omega time? No chronos,
No Kairos, no linear, no anywhere time?
We do know there are
Rhythms of moons and seasons,
We do know we breathe—
Our lives,
Our breath,
Sifts through many branches,
Spreads through many bodies,
Moves in a wind that is kin to silence—
Yet even amidst the changes that don’t
Really change, even amidst the sound
Living in silence, and the silence living in sound
It is still a breath—an expansion and contraction
Of our place in time—
A breath that is, in itself, a spirit,
A spirit that is, in itself, a body—
A body that is, in itself, the now made manifest.
And from where we stand,
In all of the mystery, and all
The effort to find a center
We blossom and wither
In no time at all—
So here we are—maybe
You need to join me in
Lifting our head, lifting our hands—
And with all the earnestness of a lost soul–
Say to the everywhere:
“Show me.”
Gifting the Air
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Everyone knows
We carry air in our bodies,
We know, and occasionally,
Sense it flowing through us,
How it enlivens us
When we focus it into our every cell.
And it does so without effort,
Without being invasive,
Without expecting anything
In return.
Today, let’s try this:
Let’s send out our every word
Upon, within, the air
As gifts—touch the air
With kind words, caress
The evening air with reminiscences
On front porches and strolls
Through the neighborhoods,
Fill the morning air
With prayers and Broadway tunes,
Inspire the night air with dreams
And comforting words of reassurance—knowing
We do all these things
By the power of the air.
We all know what happens
When it lifts from us
One last time and searches out
A newborn swallowing
Its first bubble of outside life.
Let us return the grace—
Let us gift the air with words,
And thoughts that dance
In its heart, let us gift the air
With songs that create joy
In the movements of the wind,
Let us fill our every breath
With mercy, compassion,
And a radical empathy
That unfolds across the world
Into other lands, other lungs, other hearts,
Other minds—let us gift the air
With praise.
All donations go to medical bills and groceries. Thank you so much. <3
A Second Thought
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
You have been with me
Since the beginning
Even though
I no longer remember
The first time
You filled me,
Sending me wailing
From the initial revelation.
From that moment
Until now–
I have rarely given you
A second thought.
You enter, touching my nose,
And lips, and then
Filter through me,
Spreading life, only to then
Disappear into my cells.
You make my chest rise and fall,
Ebb and flow, enlivening me
Over and over,
Again, and again,
Moment after moment,
Year after year,
And you do so largely
In relative silence and secret.
I think of you when I feel
The need to catch you,
Or hold you, or focus
On you for a guided meditation,
Or watch you ghost out
Of my mouth in winter.
You shimmer through me,
I know you are there,
I want you to stay,
Even though one day
You will sail out of my body
For good, onto the billowing winds,
To gently, unobtrusively,
Fill the body of another—
Another who will,
In all likelihood, hardly ever
Give you a second thought.
So here, now,
I think of you in as full
Consciousness as I can muster,
I feel you filling my every
Cell and vein with kindness.
Thank you for being
My friend, my guide,
My most intimate companion
On my journey
Of letting you go.
All donations go to medical bills and groceries. <3
The Gift of Seeing Our Breath
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
I.
As a child, as summer slipped into fall,
And the first frost shrouded the grass in little, dissolvable crystals,
I would go outside first thing in the morning
And make my mouth into a wonder-filled O,
And breathe. And when I saw my breath
Spill wispy veils upwards into the air, like so many unfurling ghosts,
I rejoiced and ran in my footy pajamas back to my bed and covers,
To contemplate this most marvelous thing.
My friends and I walked to school back then,
And on the first day it was cold enough
To see your breath, every few steps
One of us would say: “Look! I can see my breath!”
And we would stop and we would see and we would say:
“That’s so cool!”
This morning I saw a little girl step from her front door,
Make her mouth into a wonder-filled O, and breathe.
I just caught the look of amazement in her eyes as I drove past.
II.
What a gift this being alive, this being able to see our breath,
This casting of feathery nets that needn’t catch anything into an invisible sea of blue,
This gentle launching of ships of clouds—
What a gift to live in amazement,
What a gift to be able, on the coldest of days,
To be reminded we are alive, we are warm in here,
We are message bearers sharing silken signals,
“This is mine,” we say, “and I share it with you.”
We are makers of clouds and shepherds of little flocks of adventurous sheep,
And not a single one of us breathes alone,
We share the breath of those we fear
And those we love, as summer slips into fall
And the world becomes shrouded in frost,
And coldness touches everything—pause,
Let us make our heart into a wonder-filled O
And breathe, letting our warmth spread defiantly into the cold.
And one day when we breathe our last
Our spirits will spill upwards in feathery spirals
And be carried on the shoulders of the breath
Of the living, and we will rise, our souls shaped like
Wonder-filled O’s, and we will slip into the arms of angels
Who will bear us back to a bed of softest down,
Tuck us in to rest, kiss our forehead
And whisper, “Rest now. Tomorrow is a new day and there is much to do,
And many people to fill with amazement. ”