Graveyard
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Fireflies rose from the darkness
among the crowded graves
and lifted, like little lanterns,
into the sky.
Tag Archives: death
Easter Silence, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
Easter Silence
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
I wonder if when
Jesus sat up in the tomb
On the third day, he was
Pulled suddenly alive
By a catching breath—
A breath surprising even
Unto himself?
Did he sit for little
Eternities listening to
Silence—or had
Silence scattered at the sound
Of the waiting angels
Opening their wings?
Whatever happened
To the sand his feet touched
As he stood? Is the dust
Still in the mouth
Of the cave?
Did the little rocks and pebbles
That trailed behind the hem
Of his robe dragging over
The ground, one day become
Mountains?
For all I know, the tomb
Was always empty—ever not
Gestating a dead man.
Perhaps neither it nor he ever
Existed—which seems most likely given
Today. This Easter silence
Finds us isolating in different parts
Of one, great cave—
Behind make-shift masks
Afraid to ever breathe
Again.
The Occasional Heart, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
The Occasional Heart
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Some things are better left broken—
Seeds and cicada husks, the robin’s egg,
The chrysalis, the occasional heart.
Some things cannot be healed—
Not simply because they aren’t illnesses–
But because experiences cannot be
Undone. And besides,
Some wounds
Are delicious—the taste of blood
Metallic and sacred, free of pity—
Fortifying the bones.
Wounds happen,
No rhyme, no reason, no
Providence. They are moments
In the absurdity and the ridiculous wonder
Of living, of breaking open,
Of blossoming into the air,
Of wings settling and elongating,
Of the gift of spiraling inwards and
Outwards during sleep, during death, and unfolding—
Sifting through the branches of your life–
A most spectacular storm,
A most radiant calm.
Sit with grief. Allow it to breathe.
It isn’t something
To be cured. It isn’t
A sickness.
It is you, the self-same you–
Just as joy is your name.
Consider yourself
Whole—
Nothing
Missing, nothing worthy
Of stealing for, killing for, dying for.
Live. Your soul–ever
Untarnished, uncorruptible—
Is more you than you. Live.
As for the rest of it—yes—
The mind, body, the spirit—
These, like wings, can all
Be broken. Rest as you move.
Everything gradually
Falls apart and wishes itself
Into the ground and sky.
Nothing can stop the holy breaking
Open. Live. Leap
Into the vastness
Of possibility. Live.
Bury the dead, nourish the living,
And roar—
Dancing
Into your life.
Naming the Way, by, Jennifer Angelina Petro
Naming the Way
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Go outside late October.
Lock your eyes on one falling leaf.
Try to find the moment
As close to the beginning
Of it’s letting go from the branch
As you can. Really follow that leaf—
That one in a million leaf.
Train your eyes on it. Focus.
Notice the way the wind carries it,
Breathes it. Watch how it turns
Gently over and around, catching little
Fleeting currents, and then
Smoothing out into a kind
Of easy drifting. Its descent held
In the palms of the wind. See
How golden. See how tenderly
It is placed in the stream.
Give that leaf a name—your
Name, and then,
Go back inside
To pray.
In the Rooms of Our Days, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
In the Rooms of Our Days
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Snow falls, soundless,
Layering on branches, like cells
On the body, creating silence
And drapery, touching everything.
The winter wishes for nothing else
Than to build up smooth mounds
Over the ruins of sleeping seeds
And the bones of animals that passed away alone,
Giving them the kind of protection required
For secret awakenings to warmth and light—
That we all need, that we all long for
As we stay awake all winter, walking back and forth
In the rooms of our days, unable to sleep,
Unable to close our eyes and trust the spring,
Unable to remember that once
We slept in darkness, that once
We emerged from the darkness,
That once, again and again, we blossomed
Into the hands of another, that we rose up
To a welcoming sky, and that we will all, once
Again, and again, return to sleep
Beneath scrolls of silent snow.
Moment, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
Moment
by
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Some nights, loneliness says:
“Everything fades.
Flowers. Fireflies. Pain.
Thing is to go out in as exquisite symmetry as you can—
Laughter on the one hand, tears on the other, and then—
Let all of your beautiful failures become the wind.”
Of All Things Let Go, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
Of All Things Let Go
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
It’s possible to imagine snow
As time silently shrouding
Everything. It’s possible
To think of snow
As the gradual smoothing
Of all the rough edges;
Sometimes you can
See Lady Winter draping shawls
Over the shoulders of the trees,
And, of course, you can see
Snow as burden, as the laying down
Of funeral blankets on flowers,
It is the great quieter of color
And the crumbler of fruit,
It is the world gone still and
More trudging, yes, and sometimes,
Go out and stand, allow
The cold kisses to touch your face;
Lift your arms and let them
Be blessed with that so uncommon
Feeling of being alive, and watch–
The snow falls from the unseeable sky,
Look– the crystal stars form
On your sleeves, each one
Bestowed with infinity—that alone is enough
To fill one with swooning wonder,
Notice too, how your breath
Issues its swirling ghosts
Of all things let go,
How winter absorbs them
Into herself as the prayers
That they are, and treasures them
Until one day, when she turns
Her great skirts and drifts away
Over the houses and hillsides
Leaving all that was let go
For spring to tend and encourage
With warm hands, their rebirth
Into the sun.
Be There, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
Be There
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
You may have seen
Those videos where
The camera focuses in
On one person and then
Pans out past the tree tops,
The buildings, the clouds,
And further backwards
Through space, until
The swirling earth
Grows smaller, and smaller,
And smaller,
As the satellite camera
Continues to draw back
Revealing solar systems,
Galaxies, and then more—
The ever-growing universe.
This amazement of technology
Is meant to show us
Our seeming insignificance
In the grand scheme of things—
How little we are, how tiny our earth is,
How, while we find our rightful
Place among the galaxies,
We are still hugely small, invisible
In the clusters of stars.
I would argue however,
That you matter; that you,
Standing there on the little space
You take—matter.
And when winter comes,
And the ground grows cold,
And the trees weep their true
Colors into the streets and rivers,
That if you were to bend down,
And gently place your hand
On the hardening ground
And whisper witnessing words—
Reminding the earth of the life
Dreaming within—
The seeds and sleeping animals—
That it needn’t be afraid,
That it needn’t feel it has failed us,
That it is beautiful and to be honored
For the spring and summer
It so lavishly shared with us,
You would be making a world
Of difference.
The earth gives, and gives,
And gives, and it rejoices
In doing so, and yet, when winter comes,
And the frost pushes it all down,
You can stay by its bedside of trees
And fallow fields, you can
Sing it soft songs of comfort,
You can tread lightly
Over the steeling ground,
You can remind the earth
With your every breath,
Every act of kindness,
Every prayer,
That the earth will
Resurrect, that it will
Be born again, that it will
Waken from its frightening sleep,
And once again, and again,
And again, bloom, just as
The universe continues
To bloom, just as you
Continue to bloom,
Just as you realize more, and more,
And more, how important
You really are. In the grand
Scheme—which is, of course,
Really, a great song–
Once again, it needs to be
Said over, and over, and over—
You matter, you have the powers
To comfort and heal,
You have the powers
To be comforted and healed–
Because nothing is alone,
Because everything matters,
Because we blossom
Through this universe
Full of the stuff of stars
And communities of compassion
And wonder.
So, as you stand, be the spring
And summer for the earth
As she freezes into her yearly
Death–be there, be there for her,
Be for her as the sun is
For you.
Thank you for your support. All donations go to medical bills and groceries.
On Notice, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
On Notice
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
At a moment’s notice
You’re on notice.
Did you notice that?
It may come person to person,
Or deer to person, or hawk to person,
You might receive notice in the mail–
It might be short notice,
Advanced notice,
Official notice,
It might be public notice,
Or you might be noticed in secret by a shadow, or the moon.
However it comes, whatever its nature,
Take it as best you can, for rest assured
One day you will be put on notice,
Or you will put notice on yourself—whichever it is—
There may not be further notice.
Keep in mind there are notes in every notice–
Musical notes that just want to be seen and heard and played.
For all noticings are musical by nature, every time
You notice another, the soul dances.
The thing to remember is this:
Nothing goes without notice forever.
When death comes with her eviction notice,
You will have no choice but to sit up and take it.
I notice your eyes,
The slight tilt of your face,
I notice you breathing on these words
Giving them life.
Including You, by Jennifer Angelina Petro
Including You
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Now that autumn is in full gear
And the air fills the lungs with letting go breaths,
The time has come once again
When the slant of light catches you off guard
And you find yourself weeping
Watching the precipitation from the trees
Vesturing the ground with red and gold.
There is nothing you can do.
The allegory of the leaves and change
Has been around as long as trees themselves.
You cannot get around letting go.
And there are times letting go turns
Into a flood of things sailing away
Just beyond your reach into a day full of cidered light–
And you can only watch, or try
To look away, nevertheless parts of your life
Will be draped on the ground like so many
Torn shards of shifts and shirts
And they will be there waiting for you
To witness their being caught down in unavoidable winds
And you will be left with either becoming
Hard, like a tree whose blood slows to frozen,
Or ebullient like a flower girl at a wedding, tossing
Rose petals along the aisle where death
Sits on one side and life on the other,
And your processional of letting go distracts everyone
Momentarily from the marriage about to happen
That will leave everyone, including you,
Searching frantically inside
For the one they used to love.